3  1822  01408  2341 


WORKS    AND    DAYS 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA.  SAN  DI6«« 

LA  JOLLA,  CALIFORNIA 


bg  IHr. 

MY  STUDY  FIRE 

MY  STUDY  FIRE,  SECOND  SERIES 

UNDER  THE  TREES  AND  ELSEWHERE 

SHORT  STUDIES  IN  LITERATURE 

ESSAYS  IN  LITERARY  INTERPRETATION 

ESSAYS  ON  NATURE  AND  CULTURE 

BOOKS  AND  CULTURE 

ESSAYS  ON  WORK  AND  CULTURE 

THE  LIFE  OF  THE  SPIRIT 

NORSE  STORIES 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

FOREST  OF  ARDEN 

CHILD  OF  NATURE 

WORKS  AND  DAYS 

PARABLES  OF  LIFE 

MY  STUDY  FIRE.     Illustrated 

UNDER  THE  TREES.     Illustrated 


WORKS  AND  DAYS 
BY  HAMILTON  WRIGHT 
MABIE 


NEW  YORK:  PUBLISHED  BY 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
MDCCCCIII 


Copyright,  1899,  1900, 1901, 1902, 
BY  THE  OUTLOOK  COMPANY. 

Copyright,  1902, 

BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY, 
All  rights  reserved. 


First  Edition  Published  April,  1902. 


SSntbersftg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
MARSHAL   HUNTINGTON    BRIGHT 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

THE  HIGHEST  SERVICE  OF  LOVE i 

CHARACTER  AND  FATE 9 

TAKING  HOLD 19 

LOOKING  AHEAD 22 

WORKING  OUT 25 

SHARING  SUCCESS 28 

THE  SMALLER  VISION 31 

ON  GUARD 34 

THE  REAL  PREPARATION 37 

THE  LIGHT  OF  FAITH 42 

MORAL  USES  OF  MEMORY        45 

PAGAN  WORDS 49 

THE  LESSON  OF  LIFE 53 

TRUE  SELF-CONFIDENCE 59 

UNUSED  POWER 63 

THE  POSITIVE  LIFE 67 

WHICH  BACKGROUND  ? 74 

THE  PRAYER  OF  LOVE 78 

PERSONAL  ATMOSPHERE 83 

THE  LARGER  RELATIONSHIP 88 

vii 


Contents 

PACK 

IN  REMEMBRANCE 93 

THE  CONTAGION  OF  FAITH 96 

DANGEROUS  FOES 102 

INVITING  THE  BEST  THINGS 108 

THE  GRACE  OF  GOODNESS 113 

PERSONAL  DEFLECTION 119 

THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  SUCCESS 123 

THE  BEST  PREPARATION 128 

FAITH-INSPIRERS 132 

THE  TEST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 136 

THE  STERILITY  OF  RESTLESSNESS 140 

SOMETHING  TO  BE  CULTIVATED 144 

THE  TRIUMPHANT  LIFE 148 

THE  BEST  IN  THE  WORST 151 

SPIRITUAL  SELF-RELIANCE 154 

THE  HIGHEST  VALUE  ON  OURSELVES      ....  159 

PATIENT  LOYALTIES 163 

CHERISH  YOUR  IDEALS 166 

THE  DENIALS  OF  GOD 169 

THE  SOUL  OF  WORK 172 

SELF  AND  OTHERS 177 

WAIT  FOR  RESULTS 181 

AT  OUR  DOORS 185 

AFTER  THE  NIGHT 188 

SUCCESS  IN  FAILURE 192 

GREATER  THAN  HEREDITY 198 

THE  SECRET  OF  FRESHNESS 202 

PATIENCE  WITH  OURSELVES 207 

viii 


Contents 

PAGB 

GIVE  AND  TAKE 211 

WORK  THAT  NOURISHES 214 

NOT  GETTING  BUT  GIVING 217 

STRENGTH  OUT  OF  WEAKNESS 220 

WAITING 223 

A  BEAUTIFUL  TALENT 227 

THE  SUPREME  SERVICE 230 

LIVE  IN  TO-DAY 233 

A  HINT  FROM  A  POEM 236 

THE  CORRUPTION  OF  SELF-PITY 240 

THE  REAL  POWER  IN  LIFE 243 

THE  GRACE  OF  OPPORTUNITY 246 

FORGETTING  THE  THINGS  THAT  ARE  BEHIND      .  249 

BELIEVE  IN  YOUR  WORK 253 

EARN  YOUR  SUCCESS 256 

LIGHT  IN  THE  SHADOW 262 

THE  WASTE  OF  FRICTION 266 

DISCIPLINE  OF  HINDRANCE 271 

THE  LIMITS  OF  HELPFULNESS 275 

HEALTHY  DISCONTENT 280 

LOVE  AND  WORK 283 

ASPIRATION  AND  AMBITION 287 

THE  GRACE  OF  ACCEPTANCE 293 

THE  BETTER  WAY 296 


WORKS  AND  DAYS 


THE   HIGHEST   SERVICE 
OF   LOVE 

AFTER  all  that  has  been  said  in  so 
many  forms  of  speech,  love  re 
mains  unexplained  and  unfathomable ; 
we  know  its  manifestations,  its  modes 
of  expression,  its  surrenders  and  sacri 
fices,  but  the  heart  of  it  we  do  not  know ; 
if  we  could  penetrate  this  mystery,  we 
should  understand  God.  The  mys 
tery  of  God,  which  lies  like  a  luminous 
cloud  about  us,  would  be  revealed  if 
it  were  possible  to  analyze  and  probe 
to  the  bottom  any  pure  human  love. 
Wherever  love  is,  there  dwells  the 
mystery  of  God ;  mysterious  because 
it  is  too  sacred  for  the  searching  of 
thought  alone,  and  too  vast  for  the 


Works  and  Days 

capacity  of  present  experience.  The 
touch  of  the  infinite  is  upon  it,  and  it 
shares  the  boundlessness  of  the  infinite ; 
for  no  time  is  set  for  its  duration,  and 
no  limits  for  its  growth.  Age,  pain, 
weariness,  sorrow,  denial,  do  not  weaken 
it ;  and  it  faces  death  with  sublime 
indifference. 

There  is  an  instinct  in  the  soul  of 
love  which  knows  that  it  is  immortal. 
There  come  to  it  at  times  the  premoni 
tions  of  eternity ;  it  cries  out  for  in 
finite  capacity  and  limitless  time.  No 
language  is  adequate  to  bear  the  burden 
of  its  expression  or  to  reveal  the  glory 
of  its  pure  and  passionate  craving  to 
serve,  to  give,  to  surrender,  to  be  and 
to  do  for  the  child,  the  wife,  or  the 
friend  to  whom  it  goes  out  in  a  silent, 
unreturning  tide.  After  it  has  said 
everything,  it  retreats  baffled  and  help 
less  because  it  has  left  everything  un 
said.  Its  constant  pain  is  the  burden 
of  unexpressed  feeling.  Try  as  it  may 
every  form  of  speech  known  to  men, 


The  Highest  Service  of  Love 

and  in  its  heart  of  hearts  there  remains 
the  consciousness  that  the  deepest  and 
truest  things  have  not  been  said.  The 
heart  of  man  has  overflowed  in  song,  in 
art,  in  noble  devotions  of  word  and 
deed,  but  the  heart  of  man  is  still  an 
unplumbed  sea.  If  love  were  mortal, 
it  could  find  a  voice  sweet  enough  and 
of  adequate  compass  to  convey  that 
which  lies  in  the  depths  of  its  being; 
but  how  shall  the  immortal  put  on 
mortality?  When  the  Infinite,  twenty 
centuries  ago,  put  on  the  finite,  and  the 
immortal  wore  the  garments  of  the 
mortal,  the  divine  was  compelled  to 
hold  back  the  most  glorious  part  of  its 
nature  because  there  was  no  language 
among  men  fine  enough  for  its  purity 
or  capacious  enough  for  its  vastness. 
Christ  was  not  only  the  revelation  but 
the  veiling  of  the  Father.  If  love  were 
finite,,  it  would  not  bear  forever  in  its 
heart  a  deep  sense  of  helplessness  ;  it  is 
ready  to  give  all,  do  all,  save  all,  but  it  can 
give  only  a  cup  of  water  where  it  would 
3 


Works  and  Days 

open  a  fountain,  and  plead  and  pray 
where  it  would  gladly  lay  down  its  life. 
The  pain  of  love  is  rooted  in  its  im 
mortality. 

And  as  its  pain  of  unexpressed  feeling 
and  devotion  is  rooted  in  its  immortality, 
so  also  is  its  divinest  revelation  of  itself. 
For  the  highest  service  of  love  is  not  to 
console  but  to  inspire,  not  to  comfort 
but  to  stimulate.  In  the  wreckage  of 
hopes  which  sometimes  overtakes  the 
strongest  and  the  best,  love  alone  finds 
a  hearing,  and  brings  that  sense  of  com 
panionship  which  is  the  beginning  of 
consolation.  Wherever  darkness  settles, 
there  shines  the  light  of  love  ;  and  when 
the  smitten  arise  out  of  the  prostration 
of  grief,  it  is  the  leading  of  this  light 
which  they  follow  with  steps  that  grow 
stronger  as  they  struggle  on.  The  sor 
row  of  the  world  has  always  sought  the 
heart  of  love  as  its  only  place  of  hope. 

But  love   has  a  higher    ministry  ;  its 
glory  is  not  in  service  in  hours  of  dis 
aster,  but  in  its  noble  compulsion  to  do 
4 


The  Highest  Service  of  Love 

and  to  seek  the  best.*'  He  loves  best 
who  demands  and  secures  the  highest 
from  the  loved  one.*/  The  mother  loves 
her  child  most  divinely,  not  when  she 
surrounds  him  with  comfort  and  antici 
pates  his  wants,  but  when  she  resolutely 
holds  him  to  the  highest  standards  and 
is  content  with  nothing  less  than  his  best. 
The  immortality  of  love  shines  in  a 
home,  not  when  blindness  shuts  the  eyes 
of  the  mother  and  wife,  but  when  the 
clear-sightedness  of  her  love  reveals  it 
self  in  the  greatness  of  her  demands  and 
expectations.  It  is  a  fable  that  love  is 
blind :  passion  is  often  blind,  but  love 
never.  They  who  love  are  sometimes 
blind  to  the  faults  of  those  for  whom 
they  care,  but  not  because  they  love 
them.  When  love  has  its  way,  it  grows 
more  clear-sighted  as  it  becomes  deeper 
and  purer.  Happy  is  the  child  to  whom 
the  love  of  a  mother  is  a  noble  stimulus, 
and  fortunate  the  man  whose  wife  stands 
not  for  his  self-satisfaction  but  for  his 
aspiration  —  a  visible  witness  to  the 
5 


Works  and  Days 

reality  of  his  ideal,  and  unflinchingly 
loyal  not  only  to  him  but  to  it. 

For  love,  being  immortal,  cannot  rest 
in  anything  less  than  the  immortal  in 
another;  it  craves  perfection  because 
perfection  is  the  sign  of  imperishable- 
ness  ;  men  gather  up  and  carry  the  per 
fect  things  from  century  to  century 
because  these  beautiful  finalities  of  char 
acter,  of  speech,  of  art,  of  action,  confirm 
its  hope  of  immortality.  He  who  truly 
loves  is  irreconcilable  to  faults  in  one 
whom  he  loves ;  they  blur  the  vision 
which  always  lies  in  his  soul,  and  in 
the  beauty  of  which  his  heart  finds  undy 
ing  freshness  of  devotion  and  joy  of 
anticipation. 

The  wisdom  of  love,  which  is  wise  in 
exact  proportion  to  its  depth  and  self- 
realization,  is  shown  in  its  exactions 
rather  than  in  its  indulgences.  The 
ministry  of  consolation  is  divinely  ap 
pointed,  and  love  knows  all  its  potencies  ; 
but  love  also  knows  that  nothing  is  ever 
really  lost  in  this  world  except  oppor- 
6 


The  Highest  Service  of  Love 

tunity  ;  all  other  losses,  however  bitter, 
are  for  the  moment.  With  this  wisdom 
in  its  heart,  love  knows  that  it  saves 
most  when  it  saves  life  for  those  whom 
it  loves  ;  for  life  is  not  simple  existence  ; 
it  is  growth,  and  the  things  which  come 
with  growth.  He  loves  me  most  who 
helps  me  to  do  and  to  be  the  best  and 
the  greatest  in  any  human  relation,  not 
he  who  says  the  most  comforting  things 
to  me  when  death  has  interrupted  that 
relation.  That  fellowship,  if  it  was  true, 
will  survive  the  touch  of  death  ;  but  if  I 
have  missed  the  heart  of  it  by  accepting 
something  less  than  the  best  it  had  to 
offer,  who  shall  call  back  the  vanished 
years  and  restore  the  lost  opportunity  ? 
I  part  from  my  friends,  but  I  do  not 
lose  them ;  what  I  lose  is  the  growth, 
the  unfolding,  the  task,  the  vision,  the 
chance  of  love  in  this  present  hour. 

"  Send  some  one,  Lord,  to  love  the 

best  that  is  in  me,  and  to  accept  nothing 

less  from    me ;    to   touch   me  with    the 

searching  tenderness  of  the  passion  for 

7 


Works  and  Days 

the  ideal ;  to  demand  everything  from 
me  for  my  own  sake ;  to  give  me  so 
much  that  I  cannot  think  of  myself,  and 
to  ask  so  much  that  I  can  keep  nothing 
back ;  to  console  me  by  making  me 
strong  before  sorrow  comes ;  to  help  me 
so  to  live  that,  while  I  part  with  many 
things  by  the  way,  I  lose  nothing  of  the 
gift  of  life." 


CHARACTER   AND   FATE 

THERE  has  always  been  a  passion 
ate  protest  in  the  heart  of  the  race 
against  that  element  in  life  which  men 
call  fate  ;  the  play  upon  unprotected 
natures  of  those  events,  accidents,  calam 
ities,  which  are  beyond  human  control. 
These  arbitrary  happenings  are  often 
tragic  in  their  consequences  ;  they  often 
seem  wholly  irrational ;  they  have  at 
times  a  touch  of  brutal  irony.  In  many 
cases  one  is  tempted  to  personify  fate  as 
a  malignant  spirit,  studiously  and  with 
malicious  cunning  seeking  ways  of  wound 
ing,  stinging,  bruising  and  poisoning  the 
most  sensitive  souls.  There  have  been 
human  careers  so  completely  distorted  and 
thwarted  that  it  has  seemed  as  if  the  gods 
were  jealous  of  men,  and  anxious  to  rob 
the  greatest  rewards  of  their  sweetness  and 
the  noblest  achievements  of  their  fruit. 
So  often  are  the  prizes  snatched  from 
9 


Works  and  Days 

the  strong  hand  that  had  grasped  them 
that  the  Greek  poets  could  not  withdraw 
their  gaze  from  that  irony  which  at  times 
appears  to  make  human  life  the  mere 
sport  of  the  higher  powers.  The  gods 
seemed  to  be  mocking  men  by  holding 
out  glittering  gifts  and  then  suddenly 
snatching  them  away.  And  this  play  of 
what  appears  to  be  blind  force  still  has 
its  way  in  the  world.  The  noblest  cathe 
dral  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  earthquake ; 
the  divinest  picture  or  poem  may  be 
turned  to  ashes  in  a  brief  quarter  of  an 
hour;  the  misplacing  of  a  switch  may 
wreck  the  most  commanding  intellect ; 
a  moment's  inattention  may  break  the 
happiest  circle  and  cloud  the  fairest  sky. 
The  conditions  under  which  men  live 
have  remained  unchanged  except  as 
human  foresight  and  skill  have  changed 
them ;  but  in  that  simple  statement  lies 
an  immense  change  of  point  of  view. 
There  are  still  mysteries  in  the  ordering 
of  the  world  which  have  not  been  solved 
and  probably  are  insoluble  in  this  stage 


10 


Character  and  Fate 

of  development ;  but  we  have  discovered 
that  nature  is  our  friend  and  teacher  in 
the  exact  degree  in  which  we  learn  her 
ways  and  co-operate  with  her.  The  area 
of  what  once  appeared  to  be  mere  blind 
interferences  with  human  activity  and 
happiness  steadily  contracts ;  the  area  of 
beneficent  and  helpful  relationship  stead 
ily  widens.  Men  are  now  safe  where 
they  were  once  in  peril ;  they  are  now 
masters  where  they  were  once  servants. 
Through  what  seemed  the  play  of 
mere  physical  force  there  now  shines 
the  light  of  that  great  movement  upward 
which  we  call  development ;  that  sublime 
conception  which,  as  one  of  the  most 
spiritual  thinkers  of  our  generation  has 
said,  has  come  to  light  just  in  time  to 
save  some  of  the  finest  and  most  sensitive 
spirits  from  despair.  For  that  conception 
not  only  involves  a  progressive  order 
working  in  the  place  of  what  seemed  to 
be  a  blind  force ;  it  involves  also  a  pro 
gressive  inclusion  of  all  human  interests 
in  a  system  vast  as  the  universe  and  old 
ii 


Works  and  Days 

as  eternity,  and  yet  mindful  of  each  soul's 
welfare  and  growth.  A  vision  of  order 
slowly  becoming  clearer  as  all  things  work 
together  for  the  good  of  those  who  obey, 
throws  new  light  on  what  appeared  to  be 
the  waste  and  sheer  brutality  of  the  past ; 
and  where  we  do  not  understand,  we  can 
wait :  since  we  may  rest  in  the  assurance 
that  we  are  not  the  victims  of  a  merciless 
physical  order  nor  the  sport  of  those  who 
have  power  but  not  righteousness,  the 
willingness  to  hurt  but  not  the  wish  to 
heal. 

We  are  learning  also  that  a  very  large 
part  of  the  happenings  and  experiences 
which  once  seemed  to  come  to  men  un 
sought  are  really  invited,  and  are  only 
the  outward  and  visible  fruits  of  inward 
dispositions  and  tendencies.  Human 
responsibility  is  very  much  more  inclu 
sive  than  it  appears  to  be  at  the  first 
glance,  and  men  are  far  more  completely 
the  masters  of  their  fate  than  they  are 
prone  to  believe  or  confess.  In  fact,  in 
any  searching  analysis,  the  power  of  what 

12 


Character  and  Fate 

we  call  fate  shrinks  to  very  small  propor 
tions.  It  is  our  habit  to  relieve  ourselves 
of  our  own  responsibility  in  small  matters 
by  invoking  the  bogy  of  bad  luck,  and 
in  large  matters  by  charging  upon  fate 
the  ill  fortune  which  we  have  brought 
upon  ourselves.  Many  men  and  women 
suffer  themselves  to  be  comforted  and 
deceived  all  their  lives  by  these  illusive 
agencies  or  spectres  of  their  own  making. 
The  results  of  their  own  blindness,  care 
lessness,  lack  of  judgment,  neglect  of 
opportunities,  misleading  egotism,  are 
quietly  and  persistently  put  to  the  charge 
of  luck  or  fate ;  and  the  self-fashioned 
sufferer  takes  another  step  in  self-decep 
tion  by  drugging  himself  with  that  most 
enervating  of  all  forms  of  consolation, 
self-pity.  Hosts  of  men  and  women  go 
through  their  lives  without  once  looking 
their  deeds  in  the  face  or  seeing  them 
selves  with  clear  eyes.  They  comfort 
themselves  with  lies  until  they  lose  the 
power  of  sight;  they  disown  the  fruits 
of  their  own  sowing. 
13 


Works  and  Days 

No  words  have  pierced  this  demoraliz 
ing  illusion  with  more  searching  force 
than  Emerson's  great  phrase,  "  Character 
is  destiny."  When  a  man  perceives  that 
he  is  living  in  a  world  of  absolute  moral 
order,  witnessed  alike  in  the  obediences 
and  disobediences  of  men  ;  that  what  he 
reaps  he  has  sown,  and  that  he  can  and  will 
reap  nothing  else ;  that  his  career  is  shaped 
and  framed  by  his  own  will ;  that  the 
great  experiences  which  come  to  him  for 
good  or  ill,  for  misery  or  blessedness,  do 
not  pursue  him,  but  are  invited  by  him  ; 
that  a  man's  spirit  attracts  the  things 
which  are  congenial  to  it  and  rejects  those 
which  are  alien  —  when  a  man  perceives 
these  things,  he  is  in  the  way  of  honest 
living  and  of  spiritual  growth.  Until  he 
does  see  these  facts  and  accept  them,  he 
deludes  himself,  and  his  judgment  of  life 
is  worthless. 

Few  things  are  more  significant  than 
the  slow  and  often  unconscious  building 
of  a  home  for  his  spirit  which  every  man 
carries  to  completion.  When  the  birds 


Character  and  Fate 

build  their  nests,  they  have  access  to  the 
same  materials,  but  what  different  selec 
tions  they  make,  and  how  far  apart  their 
methods  are !  Every  one  who  comes 
into  life  has  access  to  substantially  the 
same  material ;  but  each  selects  that 
which  belongs  to  him.  By  instinct 
or  by  intelligence  he  builds  his  home 
with  unerring  adaptation  to  the  needs 
and  quality  of  his  nature.  To  the  pure 
all  things  are  pure ;  to  the  impure  all 
things  are  impure.  The  unselfish  con 
struct  a  beautiful  order  of  service  and 
helpfulness  about  them  ;  the  selfish  make 
their  own  places.  Honor  and  confidence 
and  rectitude  are  in  the  air  when  the 
man  of  sensitive  integrity  appears  ;  sus 
picion,  mistrust  and  doubt  pervade  the 
place  where  the  man  without  character 
abides.  Clean  and  comforting  thoughts 
fly  to  the  pure  in  heart ;  debasing  fancies 
gather  like  foul  birds  around  the  man 
whose  imagination  is  a  home  of  corrup 
tion.  If  we  look  deeply,  a  wonderful 
fitness  reveals  itself  between  those  we 


Works  and  Days 

know  well  and  their  several  fortunes. 
Calamity  may  bear  heavily  upon  them, 
but  the  moral  world  they  construct  for 
themselves  out  of  the  substance  of  their 
own  natures  is  indestructible.  Life  is 
august  and  beautiful,  or  squalid  and 
mean  as  we  interpret  and  use  it;  the 
materials  are  in  all  men's  hands,  and  the 
selection  and  structure  inevitably  and 
infallibly  disclose  the  character  of  the 
builder.  As  a  beautiful  woman  furnishes 
her  home  until  it  becomes  an  externaliza- 
tion  of  her  own  ideals  and  qualities,  and 
then  fills  it  with  the  charm  and  sweetness 
of  her  own  personality  until  it  becomes 
a  material  expression  of  her  own  nature, 
so  do  we  all  silently,  and  for  the  most 
part  unconsciously,  form  spiritual  envi 
ronments  and  fashion  the  world  in  which 
we  live. 

There  are  few  sublimer  promises  in 
the  Bible  than  that  which  the  words 
"  Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous  "  con 
vey  but  cannot  contain.  This  sublime 
phrase  points  the  way  to  that  complete 
16 


Character  and  Fate 

freedom  which  the  human  spirit  craves  ; 
that  final  emancipation  from  the  forces 
which  it  does  not  choose  and  cannot  con 
trol,  which  marks  the  full  maturity  of 
spiritual  development.  It  promises  the 
gradual  supremacy  of  the  soul  over  all 
accidents,  happenings,  forces  and  mate 
rials  ;  its  final  emancipation  from  all 
servitude.  As  life  goes  on,  fate  grows 
less  and  less,  character  grows  more  and 
more ;  the  fields  become  more  com 
pletely  our  own,  and  yield  nothing  which 
we  have  not  sown  ;  the  correspondence 
between  our  spirits  and  our  fortunes 
becomes  more  complete,  until  fate  is  con 
quered  by  and  merged  into  character. 
In  the  long  run  a  man  becomes  what 
he  proposes,  and  gains  for  himself  what 
he  really  desires.  We  not  only  fashion 
our  own  lives,  but,  in  a  very  true  sense, 
as  Omar  Khayyam  intimates,  we  make 
heaven  or  hell  for  ourselves.  It  is  idle 
to  talk  about  luck,  fortune,  or  fate ;  these 
words  survive  from  the  childhood  of  the 
race ;  they  have  historical  interest,  but 

2  I7 


Works  and  Days 

they  have  no  moral  value  to-day.  No  one 
can  hide  behind  them  or  bring  them  into 
court  as  competent  witnesses  on  his  be 
half.  It  is  wise  to  face  the  ultimate 
truth  which  must  sooner  or  later  confront 
us :  we  make  or  mar  ourselves,  and  are 
the  masters  of  our  own  fates  and  fortunes. 


18 


TAKING  HOLD 

THERE  are  thousands  of  men  and 
women  in  the  world  who  seem  to 
be  living  under  a  cloud  of  predestined 
failure;  nothing  that  they  touch  turns 
out  successfully  ;  the  very  stars  in  their 
courses  seem  to  fight  against  them.  Now, 
out  of  this  multitude  there  are  some  who 
are  facing  material  misfortune  by  the 
operation  of  causes  which  they  are  power 
less  to  control,  and  to  whom,  therefore, 
the  only  success  is  a  noble  and  heroic  ac 
ceptance  of  failure;  but  there  are  many 
more  whose  lack  of  success  lies  in  them 
selves.  They  have  lost  their  grip  on  life  ; 
they  go  through  the  motions  of  activity, 
but  there  is  no  heart  in  their  work,  no 
vim  in  their  onset  against  obstacles.  If 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  must  be  taken 
by  force,  much  more  must  the  earthly 
victory  be  won  by  bold,  aggressive  attack. 
No  one  can  succeed  who  holds  his  work 
19 


Works  and  Days 

at  arm's  length  and  goes  into  it  faint 
hearted  and  presaging  failure  before  he 
has  struck  the  first  blow.  The  world 
presents  an  apparently  solid  and  defiant 
front  to  the  man  or  woman  who  must 
find  a  place  in  its  ranks,  but  it  is  aston 
ishing  how  soon  it  makes  room  for  a 
new-comer  who  does  not  sue  for  place 
and  work,  but  takes  both  as  if  they  be 
longed  to  him.  Aggressive  faith  in  the 
success  of  character,  aptitude,  and  pluck 
is  contagious  ;  the  man  who  has  it  soon 
communicates  it  to  others  ;  the  man  who 
has  it  not  need  not  expect  others  to  create 
it  for  him.  God  appointed  work  for 
every  earnest  and  self-respecting  soul ; 
without  work  of  some  sort  no  man  or 
woman  can  lead  a  respectable  life  in  this 
world.  God  also  appointed  the  rewards 
of  work  to  follow  after  it  as  certainly  as 
the  harvest  follows  the  sowing.  The 
true  farmer  does  not  go  into  his  fields 
faint-hearted  and  despondent,  distrusting 
the  march  of  the  sun  or  the  coming  of 
the  harvest ;  he  trusts  implicitly  that 


20 


Taking  Hold 

ordering  of  the  seasons  which  has  never 
yet  failed,  and  he  knows  that  for  every 
unfruitful  year  there  will  be  a  dozen 
fruitful  ones.  Take  hold  of  life  in  the 
same  spirit ;  put  out  of  your  mind  all 
thought  of  failure,  and  out  of  your  heart 
the  weakness  that  springs  from  it ;  strike 
boldly,  and  strike  strongly,  with  full 
faith  in  yourself,  your  destiny,  and  God ! 


21 


LOOKING  AHEAD 

THE  story  of  the  unhappy  woman 
who  turned  back  in  her  flight  from 
destruction,  and  remained  forever  trans 
fixed,  teaches  a  universal  lesson.  There 
is  no  subtler  temptation  than  that  which 
prompts  strong  men  to  recall  past  weak 
nesses  and  former  transgressions  and  to 
surrender  to  the  feeling  of  discourage 
ment  which  always  follows  in  the  train  of 
such  recollections.  The  memory  of 
failures  and  sins  ought  to  keep  us  humble, 
but  they  ought  not  to  weaken  us  ;  it  is  a 
satanic  immortality  of  evil  which  binds 
the  load  of  remembered  sins  on  the  pil 
grim's  back  so  securely  that  neither  the 
consciousness  of  the  Divine  love  nor  of 
genuine  repentance  can  loosen  and  cast  it 
off.  This  temptation  to  doubt  the  real 
ity  of  sorrow  for  misdoings  and  of  the 
infinite  compassion  which  makes  them, 
though  they  were  scarlet,  whiter  than 

22 


Looking  Ahead 

snow,  comes  to  those  who  are  best 
equipped  for  usefulness  and  most  sen 
sitive  to  their  own  shortcomings.  Those 
who  are  really  pure  at  heart  suffer  ten 
fold  for  their  offences,  and  are  the  easy 
prey  of  the  temptation  which  prompts 
them  to  turn  back  when  their  gaze  should 
be  forward. 

Men  are  slowly  reversing  some  of 
their  old  and  false  conceptions  of  life,  and 
among  them  the  thought  of  human  life 
as  a  continual  fall  from  a  former  state  of 
health  and  soundness,  rather  than  as  a 
possible  growth  out  of  imperfection  into 
strength  and  purity.  We  do  not  expect 
the  calyx-covered  bud  to  breathe  forth 
the  sweetness  of  the  flower,  nor  the  flower 
to  possess  the  ripeness  of  the  fruit. 
Neither  should  we  look  for  perfectness, 
for  full  and  rounded  symmetry,  in  a  de 
velopment  which  moves  slowly,  stage  by 
stage,  through  the  long  education  of  ex 
perience,  to  remote  and  final  complete 
ness.  The  golden  age  is  behind  us  only 
in  the  heathen  myths;  in  the  Christian 
23 


Works  and  Days 

prophecies  it  always  lies  ahead.  The 
lily  is  not  less  fair  or  fragrant  because  its 
roots  are  in  the  mud ;  its  saintly  purity 
is  the  whiter  because  of  the  transforma 
tion  which  it  has  wrought  in  the  ele 
ments  of  its  life.  A  human  character, 
full  of  inspiration,  drawn  upward  by  all 
the  impulses  of  its  nature  when  they  are 
brought  into  harmony  and  educated  into 
strength,  is  not  less  noble  because  of  the 
hours  of  weakness  through  which  it  has 
passed.  If  God's  promises  are  true,  the 
stains  which  it  feels,  and  which  others 
perhaps  remember,  are  no  longer  visible 
to  One  who  sees  all  things  as  they  are. 
The  sure  defence  against  the  temptation 
to  be  weakened  by  the  memory  of  past 
sins  is  to  look  ahead  ;  to  feel  that  one's 
true  life  lies  always  in  advance,  and  never 
behind  ;  that  out  of  weakness  true  peni 
tence  brings  strength,  and  out  of  sorrow 
there  may  be  formed  a  crown  of  joy. 


WORKING   OUT 

THERE  are  dark  hours  in  most 
lives,  when  the  threads  in  one's 
hand  fly  into  an  apparently  hopeless 
tangle,  and  the  fair  design  that  was 
beginning  to  discover  itself  is  for  the 
moment  lost  entirely,  everything  seems 
to  turn  to  ashes,  and  one  looks  in  vain 
for  a  ray  of  light  to  beckon  him  on 
through  a  darkness  that  has  become  im 
penetrable.  These  are  the  hours  that 
try  men's  souls,  and  test  their  characters 
as  by  fire.  If  one  has  been  buoyed  up 
and  sustained  hitherto  by  favoring  cir 
cumstances,  his  fall  is  almost  inevitable ; 
only  the  man  of  real  fibre  survives  the 
withdrawal  of  all  external  supports. 
And  yet  it  is  just  such  crises  as  these 
that  the  comprehensive  experience  of 
life  trains  men  to  meet.  The  ship  on 
the  stocks  is  built  for  storms,  not  for 
fair  weather.  The  best,  the  sweetest, 
25 


Works  and  Days 

and  the  deepest  things  which  life  has 
to  bestow  are  missed  by  the  very  few 
whom  the  world  foolishly  calls  fortunate, 
who  escape  all  storms  by  the  way,  and 
reach  the  end  of  their  journey  without 
knowing  whether  the  bark  they  sail  in 
is  a  thing  to  master  angry  seas  or  merely 
a  fragile  craft  which  has  made  the  voyage 
by  chance. 

But  the  darkness  that  surrounds  men 
at  times  is  more  often  apparent  than 
real ;  it  is  a  gloom  which  comes  from  an 
earth-born  fog,  and  not  from  the  ex 
tinction  of  the  sun  in  the  heavens.  For 
most  men  there  is  an  escape  from  the 
extreme  sorrows  of  deprivation  and  loss  ; 
an  experience  rarely  turns  out  so  awful 
as  it  was  in  anticipation  ;  in  a  sudden 
confusion  of  one's  affairs  there  is,  in 
most  cases  at  least,  a  safe  way  out.  A 
little  patient  waiting  will  often  set  right 
a  tangle  which  seemed  for  the  moment 
hopeless ;  a  brave  heart  will  breast  the 
storm  until  it  has  spent  its  fury.  But 
there  is  another  and  a  better  way  of 
26 


Working  Out 

meeting  one's  difficulties ;  it  is  to  look 
them  clearly  in  the  face,  grapple  with 
them  resolutely,  and  work  one's  way  out 
from  under  them.  The  obstacles  that 
will  not  yield  to  steady  work  are  few ; 
inch  by  inch  the  greatest  mountain 
ranges  yield  to  the  persistent  storming 
of  the  drill,  until  an  open  passage  is 
made  through  their  mighty  barriers  for 
the  use  of  commerce  and  travel.  Work 
is  a  sovereign  word  in  this  world  ;  a  word 
which  has  the  quality  of  mastership  in 
it;  a  word  of  more  magical  power  than 
all  the  old  talismanic  words  of  necro 
mancy.  If  you  have  come  to  a  dark 
and  baffling  hour  in  your  life,  if  all 
things  seem  to  conspire  to  bring  you 
injury  and  loss,  do  not  sit  down  in 
despair,  but  quietly  and  resolutely,  one 
day  at  a  time,  set  yourself  to  work  out 
your  own  salvation. 


27 


SHARING   SUCCESS 

WHEN  one  realizes  what  life  means 
in  its  higher  relations  and  duties, 
it  is  pathetic  to  notice  how  constantly 
people  apologize  to  one  another  for  any 
small  trouble  which  they  impose.  The 
young  man  who  goes  to  ask  the  man  of 
established  position  for  a  letter  of  in 
troduction  or  for  personal  interest  in 
securing  an  opportunity  for  work,  al 
most  invariably  expresses  regret  for  the 
interruption  which  his  request  necessi 
tates  ;  as  if  the  world  were  wholly  selfish, 
and  any  kind  of  service  done  to  another 
were  in  a  way  exceptional  and  out  of  the 
common  run  of  things !  That  a  man 
shall  put  his  strength,  his  time,  and  his 
ability  into  caring  for  his  own  is  taken 
for  granted ;  but  if  he  is  asked  to  do 
anything  for  any  one  else,  he  is  thanked 
as  if  he  were  doing  an  unusual  thing. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  one  duty  is  as 
28 


Sharing  Success 

close,  as  obvious,  and  as  imperative  as 
the  other.  The  man  who  throws  a  door 
open  to  one  who  is  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  has  done  nothing  more  ex 
ceptional  than  if  he  had  put  an  hour's 
work  into  the  gaining  of  his  own  bread, 
or  the  clothing  of  his  own  body.  He 
is  simply  doing  what  a  respectable 
spiritual  being  might  be  expected  to 
do.  The  making  of  opportunities,  the 
throwing  open  of  doors,  is  as  much  the 
duty  of  the  man  who  has  the  oppor 
tunity  as  caring  for  his  own  family.  It 
is,  indeed,  one  of  the  highest  rewards 
of  success  —  if  one  understands  what 
success  means  —  to  be  in  the  way 
of  putting  others  on  the  same  road. 
Nothing  is  more  spiritually  vulgar  and 
shabby  than  to  climb  up  and  throw  down 
the  ladder  by  which  one  has  climbed. 
Nothing  shows  the  true  nature  of  a 
man  more  than  the  spirit  in  which  he 
treats  success.  If  he  is  mean  and 
niggardly  in  his  soul,  he  accepts  it  as 
a  kind  of  personal  distinction  or  gift, 
29 


Works  and  Days 

and  hoards  it  as  a  miser  hoards  money ; 
if  he  is  generous,  he  spends  it  freely, 
eager  that  others  should  share  what  he 
has  gotten.  And  no  man  deserves  suc 
cess,  or  ought  to  keep  it,  who  fails  to 
make  this  spiritual  use  of  it.  He  who 
makes  this  use  of  it  cannot  be  corrupted 
by  any  kind  of  success  or  spoiled  by 
any  kind  of  prosperity  ;  he  who  fails  to 
do  this  was  corrupted  and  spoiled  before 
he  began. 


3° 


THE  SMALLER  VISION 

THERE  are  few  misfortunes  in  life  so 
blighting  as  the  loss  of  the  power 
of  admiration.  The  man  who  can  no 
longer  generously  and  unaffectedly  ad 
mire  a  fine  person  or  deed  has  suffered  a 
loss  at  the  very  heart  of  his  life.  He 
may  see  a  few  near-at-hand  and  relatively 
unimportant  things  more  clearly  than  his 
less  critical  fellows,  but  he  has  paid  for 
that  small  access  of  clear  vision  the  ter 
rible  price  of  loss  of  large  vision.  He 
sees  the  fence  across  the  road  more  dis 
tinctly  than  his  neighbor,  but  the  great 
ranges  of  the  hills  against  the  horizon 
are  no  longer  visible  to  him.  The  skep 
tical  temper  serves  its  purpose  as  a  brake, 
but  the  man  in  whom  it  becomes  the 
dominant  temper  ceases  to  advance ;  for 
there  is  no  propulsion  in  a  brake.  Such 
a  man  is  fast  bound  in  a  constantly 
31 


Works  and  Days 

narrowing  world;  the  springs  which  feed 
life  are  steadily  drying  up  in  him  ;  the 
hopes  which  make  life  rich  in  spite  of 
its  apparent  poverty  are  slowly  or  swiftly 
fading  from  his  view.  He  is  wise  about 
small  things,  and  ignorant  concerning 
great  things.  He  so  accustoms  himself 
to  see  the  small  imperfections,  the  petty 
incongruities,  that  he  is  blind  to  the 
noble  growth  which  is  steadily  pushing 
on  through  these  minor  and  passing 
blemishes  to  final  perfection.  Such  a 
man  sees  the  wart  on  Cromwell's  face, 
but  he  never  for  an  instant  sees  Crom 
well  ;  he  is  so  overwhelmed  by  Mr.  Lin 
coln's  apparent  lack  of  seriousness  that 
he  utterly  misses  the  vision  of  one  of 
the  most  inspiring  careers  in  the  history 
of  the  world. 

The  mind  that  becomes  entirely  critical 
is  small  without  realizing  its  littleness, 
and  is  surrounded  by  nobler  minds  with 
out  comprehending  them ;  it  is  as  much 
without  self-knowledge  as  it  is  without 
true  knowledge  of  others.  It  makes  a 
32 


The  Smaller  Vision 

small,  mean  world  for  itself  by  selecting 
the  petty  imperfections  of  the  great 
growing  world  about  it,  and  putting 
them  into  a  misleading  order;  an  order 
which  it  uses  as  the  base  of  a  still  smaller 
philosophy  which  deals  with  the  seams 
in  the  garment  of  creation,  but  ignores 
the  garment.  It  is  wise  to  be  critical  of 
ourselves,  for  self-criticism  is  a  means 
of  growth ;  but  humanity  has  too  many 
sides  to  be  put  into  the  little  cup  of  our 
individual  knowledge,  and  the  universe 
is  too  vast  for  our  little  measuring-rods. 
So  long  as  there  is  a  God,  so  long  as 
men  and  women  constantly  rise  out  of 
weakness  to  such  heights  of  nobility, 
and  so  long  as  Nature  is  clothed  in  such 
power  and  beauty,  it  is  safer  to  revere 
than  to  judge,  and  wiser  to  admire  than 
to  condemn. 


33 


ON  GUARD 

THE  great  crises  and  temptations  of 
life  come,  for  the  most  part,  when 
they  are  least  expected.  So  also  do  the 
great  opportunities.  A  young  man  fancies 
that,  when  his  great  chance  comes  he  will 
have  time  for  special  preparation,  like 
the  athlete  who  knows  the  date  when  his 
endurance  will  be  put  to  the  test  and 
subjects  himself  to  thorough  training. 
But  such  opportunities  are  rarely  given. 
There  is  no  preparation  for  exceptional 
opportunities,  except  that  which  a  man 
puts  into  his  daily  work;  the  measure 
of  his  hourly  diligence  and  fidelity  will 
be  the  measure  of  his  preparation  for  the 
great  moment  when  it  comes.  Not  less 
suddenly  and  without  preparation  come 
our  greatest  temptations,  and  this  is  the 
subtlest  danger  that  lies  in  wait  for  us. 
In  one  sense  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
34 


On  Guard 

accumulation  of  character.  It  is  true  that 
the  longer  one  remains  pure  and  honest 
and  true,  the  more  steadfast  and  certain 
becomes  the  upward  impulse  of  his  na 
ture  ;  but  there  is  rarely  a  day  when  the 
whole  fabric  of  character  is  not  put  to 
the  test  by  some  new  crisis,  rarely  an  hour 
when  the  yes  or  no,  which  have  been 
repeated  so  many  times,  must  not  be 
repeated  again  to  some  question  involving 
right  or  wrong.  No  man  can  afford  to 
live  on  his  character  as  he  lives  on  the 
capital  which  he  has  acquired  in  business, 
and  it  is  this  conception  of  character 
which  has  betrayed  many  strong  men. 
Paul,  who  belonged  to  the  order  of 
strenuous  workers,  and  in  whose  life 
there  was  no  rest  from  struggle,  seems 
to  have  been  constantly  haunted  by  the 
fear  that,  after  all  the  good  he  had  done 
to  others,  he  might  himself  become  a 
castaway.  The  same  peril  lurks  in  the 
path  of  every  man,  and  no  past  goodness 
can  protect  him ;  character  can  be  pre 
served  only  by  a  struggle  in  which  there 
35 


Works  and  Days 

is  no  truce,  armistice,  or  treaty  of  peace. 
Nothing  but  conquest,  victoriously  car 
ried  on  till  the  field  is  cleared  by  the 
summons  of  death,  can  keep  any  man 
secure.  He  who  falls  asleep  for  a  mo 
ment  at  his  post  often  inflicts  as  great  an 
injury  on  the  cause  he  defends  as  the 
most  unscrupulous  traitor.  If  vigilance 
is  the  price  of  Liberty,  much  more  is  it 
also  the  price  of  safety  and  character  and 
righteousness. 


THE  REAL  PREPARATION 

WHEN  Wellington  said  that  the 
Battle  of  Waterloo  was  won  on 
the  cricket-field  at  Eton,  he  was  putting 
in  a  picturesque  way  a  truth  which  many 
men  learn  too  late;  the  truth  that  the 
victories  of  life  are  won,  not  on  the  fields 
where  the  decisive  struggle  takes  place, 
but  in  the  obscure  and  forgotten  hours 
of  preparation.  Success  or  failure  lies  in 
the  hands  of  the  boy  long  before  the 
hour  of  final  test  comes.  Wars  are  won 
in  times  of  peace  in  armories,  foundries, 
training  schools,  and  at  staff  headquarters. 
France  was  conquered,  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  before  a  single  German  sol 
dier  set  foot  on  her  soil  by  the  marvel 
lous  preparation  which  had  been  going 
on  for  years  under  the  thorough  German 
military  and  educational  system.  The 
student  thinks  he  can  waste  his  oppor- 
37 


Works  and  Days 

tunities  and  still  fit  himself  for  the  critical 
moments  in  his  mature  life  by  hard  work 
when  the  hour  strikes,  by  energetic  spe 
cial  preparation  when  the  time  for  action 
comes  ;  but  specific  preparation  is  impos 
sible  to  the  man  who  has  neglected  gen 
eral  preparation.  Knowledge  cannot  be 
picked  up  on  short  notice  except  by  the 
man  whose  mind  is  already  well  stocked  ; 
a  particular  skill  can  be  rapidly  acquired 
only  by  the  man  who  has  thoroughly 
trained  all  his  faculties.  The  thoroughly 
educated  lawyer,  with  the  power  of  atten 
tion  and  concentration  which  are  among 
the  best  results  of  a  genuine  education, 
can  readily  familiarize  himself  with  a  new 
field  of  knowledge  for  a  special  use ;  but 
the  half-educated  man  is  unable  to  grasp, 
arrange,  or  command  the  facts.  It  is 
often  said  of  speakers  that  they  are  un 
usually  eloquent  when  called  upon  so 
suddenly  as  to  be  shut  off  from  all  possi 
bility  of  preparation ;  and  such  speeches 
are  called  extempore,  as  if  the  word  in 
volved  lack  of  preparation.  It  is  safe  to 
38 


The  Real  Preparation 

say  that  no  man  ever  yet  made  a  really 
good  speech  who  had  not  made  long, 
thorough,  and  painstaking  preparation  ; 
not  specific  preparation  for  the  particular 
occasion,  but  general  preparation  for  all 
occasions.  It  is  the  thoroughly  trained 
man  who  shines  when  he  is  suddenly 
called  upon ;  under  the  pressure  of  the 
moment  all  his  faculties  come  to  his 
assistance,  and  into  fifteen  minutes  of  talk 
he  condenses  the  thinking  of  months  or 
years.  (Tap  an  empty  man  and  you  will 
get  nothing ;  tap  a  full  man  and  you 
will  get  the  best  there  is  in  him.  \ 

In  the  higher  fields  of  success  tnere  are 
no  accidents  ;  men  reap  precisely  what 
they  have  sown,  and  nothing  else ;  they 
do  well  precisely  what  they  have  pre 
pared  to  do,  and  they  do  nothing  else 
well.  This  preparation  is  often  uncon 
scious,  but  it  is  not  the  less  thorough  for 
that  reason.  In  fact,  the  larger  and 
deeper  part  of  preparation  for  the  greater 
experiences  and  works  of  life  is  always 
unconscious.  The  cricketers  in  the  field 
39 


Works  and  Days 

at  the  English  public  school  did  not 
know  that  they  were  fighting  and  win 
ning  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of  history  ; 
we  do  not  know  when  we  are  making 
ourselves  strong,  rich,  and  great  in  re 
source  and  character.  The  world  puts 
its  force  into  us  when  we  put  ourselves 
in  right  relation  to  it ;  experience  makes 
us  constantly  wiser  if  we  know  how  to 
rationalize  it ;  time  deposits  all  manner 
of  treasure  in  our  memory  and  imagina 
tion  if  we  hold  the  doors  open.  Nothing 
is  lost  upon  a  man  who  is  bent  upon 
growth  ;  nothing  wasted  on  one  who  is 
always  preparing  for  his  work  and  his 
life  by  keeping  eyes,  mind,  and  heart 
open  to  nature,  men,  books,  experience. 
Such  a  man  finds  ministers  to  his  educa 
tion  on  all  sides ;  everything  co-operates 
with  his  passion  for  growth.  And  what 
he  gathers  serves  him  at  unexpected 
moments,  in  unforeseen  ways.  All  things 
that  he  has  seen,  heard,  known,  and  felt 
come  to  his  aid  in  the  critical  moment  to 

make  his    thought    clear  and  deep,  his 
40 


The  Real  Preparation 

illustration  luminous,  his  speech  eloquent 
and  inspiring.  "  The  poet,  the  orator," 
says  Emerson,  who  was  a  man  of  this 
order,  "  bred  in  the  woods,  whose  senses 
have  been  nourished  by  their  fair  and 
appeasing  changes,  year  after  year,  with 
out  design  and  without  heed,  —  shall 
not  lose  their  lessons  altogether  in  the 
roar  of  cities  or  the  broil  of  politics. 
Long  hereafter,  amid  agitation  and  terror 
in  national  councils,  —  in  the  hour  of 
revolution,  —  these  solemn  images  shall 
reappear  in  their  morning  lustre,  as  fit 
symbols  and  words  of  the  thoughts  which 
the  passing  events  shall  awaken.  At  the 
call  of  a  noble  sentiment,  again  the  woods 
wave,  the  pines  murmur,  the  river  rolls 
and  shines,  and  the  cattle  low  upon  the 
mountains,  as  he  saw  and  heard  them  in 
his  infancy.  And  with  these  forms  the 
spells  of  persuasion,  the  keys  of  power, 
are  put  into  his  hands." 


THE   LIGHT   OF   FAITH 

IF  there  were  to  be  a  new  beatitude,  it 
might  well  read,  "  Blessed  are  the 
cheerful ; "  for  to  them  is  given  the  gift 
of  diffusing  hope  and  courage  and  joy. 
It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  they  are 
not  only  light,  but  life  bringers ;  for 
courage  and  joy  prolong  life,  as  discour 
agement  and  despair  shorten  it.  Plants 
dwindle  and  die  without  the  sun,  and 
men  grow  old  and  perish  without  the 
warmth  and  cheer  of  hope  and  courage. 
If  these  qualities  were  purely  tempera 
mental,  those  who  lacked  them  could  not 
hope  to  possess  them ;  but  cheerfulness 
is  not  only  inheritable,  it  may  be  culti 
vated.  A  cheerful  face  is  the  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  an  inward  condition,  and 
that  condition  may  be  secured  by  any  one 
who  is  willing  to  pay  the  price  of  effort 
and  steady  purpose  which  the  acquisition 
of  any  virtue  exacts.  It  is  as  easy  to 
42 


The  Light  of  Faith 

cultivate  cheerfulness  as  to  cultivate  pa 
tience  or  good  temper  or  courtesy. 
These  qualities  society  demands  of  every 
man,  and  if  nature  has  not  bestowed 
them  on  him,  society  insists  that  he  shall 
cultivate  them.  The  bad-tempered  and 
discourteous  person  finds  himself  living 
in  an  ever-widening  zone  of  silence  and 
solitude ;  people  do  not  care  for  his 
society,  and  are  eager  to  give  him  exclu 
sive  enjoyment  of  it.  In  like  manner, 
society  ought  to  demand  cheerfulness  of 
all  its  members ;  the  man  who  spreads 
depression  and  breeds  discouragement 
ought  to  be  ostracized,  because  he  strikes 
at  the  very  heart  of  the  social  life.  De 
pression  and  despair  are  pre-eminently 
unsocial  vices ;  and  in  so  far  as  they  are 
diffused,  they  sap  social  courage  and 
drain  the  fountains  of  social  happiness. 

The  depressed  man,  whose  spirit  kills 
joy  and  makes  gloom  contagious,  owes 
it  to  his  fellows  to  keep  despair  to  him 
self,  as  a  man  suffering  from  a  contagious 
disease  owes  it  to  society  to  keep  his  fel- 
43 


Works  and  Days 

lows  free  from  danger.  This  often  in 
volves  inconveniences  and  hardship,  but 
inconveniences  and  hardship  must  be 
borne  when  the  good  of  society  is  at 
stake.  Sorrow  longs  for  companionship, 
and  ought  never  to  be  denied  it;  but 
sorrow  and  the  pessimistic  temper  have 
nothing  in  common.  Some  of  the  most 
beautiful  examples  of  cheerfulness  which 
society  has  known  have  been  furnished  by 
those  whose  sorrows  were  more  than  their 
joys.  Men  need  hope  and  courage  for 
the  power  of  growth  and  the  peace  of 
spirit  which  these  noble  qualities  bring 
with  them ;  and  cheerfulness  is,  there 
fore,  a  duty  which  every  man  owes  to 
his  fellows.  For  cheerfulness  and  de 
spondency  are  alike  contagious.  A  dis 
couraged  leader  can  chill  the  bravest 
army  ever  put  in  the  field ;  a  buoyant 
leader  can  put  resolution  into  cowards. 
The  roots  of  cheerfulness  are  in  faith ; 
the  hope  which  shines  on  the  faces  of 
some  men  and  women  is  the  reflection  of 
the  light  which  shines  in  the  face  of  God. 
44 


MORAL   USES   OF   MEMORY 

THERE  are  many  facts  which  indi 
cate  that  nothing  ever  escapes  the 
memory ;  that  while  the  power  of  recol 
lection  may  fail  from  time  to  time,  the 
record,  once  made,  although  it  becomes 
invisible,  is  made  forever.  It  is  probably 
inaccurate  to  say  that  a  man  ever  loses 
faculty  of  memory ;  even  those  whose 
memories  are  impaired,  in  moments  of 
great  excitement  recall  vividly  and  de 
scribe  accurately  things  which  they  were 
supposed  to  have  forgotten.  Every 
man  keeps  within  himself  an  indestruc 
tible  record  of  his  own  life.  He  may 
cease  to  be  able  to  read  it  for  a  time, 
but  this  loss  of  power  is  apparently  only 
for  a  time.  The  light  of  vitality  may 
sink  so  low  that  the  words  written  on  the 
tablet  of  the  heart  become  illegible,  but 
when  that  light  flashes  up  again  they  are 
45 


Works  and  Days 

once  more  distinct.  If  this  be  true, 
not  only  is  the  unity  of  life  assured  and 
the  integrity  of  personality  preserved, 
but  every  man  carries  with  him  the  ex 
planation  of  his  own  career  and  the 
record  of  his  own  destiny.  There  is 
something  terrible  and  at  the  same  time 
sublime  in  the  text,  "  Thou  shalt  remem 
ber  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy  God 
hath  led  thee."  When  one  comes  to 
remember  the  things  he  would  like  to 
forget,  the  memory  takes  on  the  guise 
of  an  inexorable  judge.  It  is,  however, 
an  unflinching  friend.  If  it  were  possi 
ble  to  forget  one's  sins  and  blunders, 
the  faculty  of  moral  growth  would  be 
arrested.  If  one  could  go  out  of  the  old 
year  into  the  new  and  carry  nothing  with 
him  but  the  memory  of  agreeable  things, 
without  the  consciousness  of  the  failures, 
indulgences  and  weaknesses  of  the  year, 
there  would  be  neither  the  tonic  of  re 
pentance  nor  the  spur  to  better  living. 
Our  past  is  not  bound  to  us  as  the  ball 
is  chained  to  the  criminal,  to  keep  us  in 
46 


Moral  Uses  of  Memory 

a  place  of  punishment;  it  is  given  to 
us  to  remind  us  that  the  only  moral 
safety  is  in  moral  progress,  and  that  the 
man  who  has  made  a  moral  mistake  or 
committed  a  sin  can  never  be  sure  of  his 
safety  until  he  has  removed  himself  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  scene  and  occa 
sion  of  his  weakness.  The  best  thing 
about  the  memory  of  our  evil  deeds  is 
the  horror  they  give  us  of  all  associations 
with  them,  and  the  desire  they  create  in 
us  to  remove  ourselves  from  them  as  far 
as  the  ends  of  the  earth.  The  best  edu 
cation  of  a  year  may  not  come  from  the 
things  which  seem  happy  in  it,  but  from 
those  which  brought  us  at  the  moment 
the  greatest  unhappiness.  There  is  no 
way  of  deciding  what  is  spiritually  fortu 
nate  or  unfortunate  at  the  time ;  our 
most  grievous  calamities  are  often  seen 
later  to  have  borne  the  fruit  of  greatest 
happiness,  and  what  appeared  to  be  at 
the  moment  our  largest  prosperities  have 
turned  later  to  ashes  in  our  hands.  The 
final  value  of  every  experience  depends 
47 


Works  and  Days 

upon  its  spiritual  result.  No  one  can 
tell  what  seed  is  in  the  soil  until  the  har 
vest  is  borne ;  the  seed  of  apparent  bitter 
ness  often  brings  forth  the  flowers  of 
peace. 


48 


PAGAN  WORDS 

THERE  are  two  words  which  ought 
never  to  be  heard  by  children  — 
"  luck  "  and  "  chance  ;  "  the  two  verbal 
scapegoats  on  which  are  laid  half  the  sins 
and  follies  of  the  race.  If  there  is  any 
thing  which  is  essential  to  the  moral 
health  and  strength  of  a  boy  or  girl,  it  is 
to  plant  deep  in  the  consciousness  the 
fact  that  this  is  an  ordered  world ;  that  a 
man  reaps  that  which  he  sows;  that  he 
secures  the  rewards  for  which  he  is  willing 
to  make  the  effort,  and  gains  the  prizes 
for  which  he  is  willing  to  pay  the  price  in 
labor,  self-denial,  and  strength.  It  is  true 
that  there  are  cases  in  which  force  of  cir 
cumstances  seem  to  make  it  impossible 
for  a  man  to  attain  the  specific  end  for 
which  he  sets  out.  '"In  these  cases,  how 
ever,  it  is  often  obviously  better  that  he 
should  fail  than  that  he  should  succeed ; 
4  49 


Works  and  Days 

for  it  often  appears,  from  a  later  and  more 
far-reaching  point  of  view,  that  temporary 
failure  meant  ultimate  success,  and  that  in 
missing  some  one  thing  on  which  a  man 
had  set  his  heart  he  finally  gained  some 
thing  of  far  greater  value,  y  What  is  cer 
tain  in  this  uncertain  world  is  that  no 
real  success  is  ever  achieved  by  accident, 
chance,  or  luck;  that  is  to  say,  by  a  blind 
and  brutal  play  of  forces  or  influences, 
or  by  a  meaningless  combination  of  con 
ditions.  What  appears  to  be  a  wanton 
interference  with  human  plans  by  a  play 
of  blind  force  is  often  seen,  in  the  larger 
circuit  of  time,  to  have  been  the  intro 
duction  of  a  new  and  higher  purpose. 
Athens  lost  the  political  independence 
upon  the  preservation  of  which  the 
greatest  of  her  orators  had  set  his  heart, 
but  in  parting  with  formal  independence 
she  became  sharer  in  a  movement  which 
spread  her  spirit  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
In  all  those  cases,  therefore,  in  which 
on  first  appearance  it  would  seem  as  if  a 
man's  fate  had  been  taken  out  of  his 


Pagan  Words 

hands,  or  his  dearest  purposes  defeated, 
it  is  well  to  postpone  judgment  until  the 
full  evolution  of  the  movement  is  seen. 
In  any  case,  it  is  the  height  of  folly  to 
instil  into  the  mind  the  idea  that  a  man 
is  the  play  of  chance  winds  of  destiny  and 
not  the  master  of  his  own  fortune.  /'Spir 
itually,  at  least,  every  man  shapes  his 
own  life.  The  things  which  come  to  him 
are  the  things  for  which  he  has  prepared 
himself;  the  things  which  he  misses  are 
the  things  which  he  has  voluntarily  re 
jected.  If  he  fails,  it  is  because  he  lacks 
ability,  force,  skill,  or  judgment  for  the 
specific  thing  which  he  set  out  to  do ;  if 
he  succeeds,  it  is  because  he  has  the 
quality  which  commands  success. v'  If  he 
is  a  man  who  has  taught  himself  to  be 
honest  with  himself,  he  never  for  a  mo 
ment  loses  sight  of  his  own  fundamental 
responsibility.  He  does  not  permit  him 
self  the  delusion  that  life  has  cheated 
him ;  that  he  has  failed  because  conditions 
were  adverse,  or  because  some  one  else 
did  not  give  him  the  support  which  he 


Works  and  Days 

ought  to  have  had.  The  men  who  are 
always  making  excuses  for  themselves, 
and  laying  upon  others  the  responsibility 
for  their  own  blunders,  follies,  and  failures 
are  rarely  honest;  they  either  deceive 
themselves  or  they  evade  a  full,  clear 
recognition  of  the  facts.  /The  beginning 
of  education  is  the  acceptance  of  the  law 
that  a  man  reaps  what  he  sows,  that  he 
is  responsible  for  his  own  career,  and 
that  it  is  idle  to  attempt  to  blind  one's 
eyes  to  these  fundamental  facts  or  to 
shift  the  responsibility  of  one's  failures 
to  other  people's  shoulders.^/ 


THE    LESSON   OF  LIFE 

THE  fundamental  problem  of  life  for 
every  man  and  woman  born  into 
the  world  is  very  simple  :  it  is  to  har 
monize  our  wills  with  the  will  of  God. 
The  problem  is  simple,  but  the  method 
of  working  it  out  is  perplexing,  painful, 
often  agonizing.  In  order  to  do  the 
will  of  God  we  must  first  find  out  what 
that  will  is,  and  this  is  a  task  which  is 
sometimes  so  difficult  that  men  give  it 
up  in  despair.  In  the  very  earnestness 
with  which  they  strive  to  know  where 
God  would  lead  them  and  what  he 
would  have  them  do  they  often  bring 
their  wills  into  conformity  with  his  will 
without  being  conscious  that  what  they 
sought  has  been  found. 

This  is  the  real  problem  in  all  depart 
ments  of  life.     In  society  a  man   must 
bring  his  desires  and  purposes  into  some 
S3 


Works  and  Days 

kind  of  harmony  with  the  rights  and 
pleasures  of  all  other  men.  In  the  State 
a  man  must  conform  his  methods  and 
his  aims  to  the  methods  and  aims  which 
have  been  incorporated  into  law  and 
political  organization  :  if  he  does  not  do 
this,  he  becomes  a  law-breaker,  a  criminal, 
and  an  outcast.  The  great  tragedies 
are  the  stories  of  men  and  women 
who  have  opposed  their  individual  wills 
to  the  will  of  the  State  and  have  been 
crushed  in  the  unequal  combat.  In 
those  cases  in  which  the  State  is  or 
ganized  or  conducted  in  opposition  to 
those  laws  of  righteousness  which  are 
the  expressed  will  of  God,  the  State 
itself  becomes  the  victim  of  the  wilful 
or  ignorant  assertion  of  its  own  will.  In 
the  church  a  man  conforms  to  the  con 
ditions  under  which  all  common  religious 
effort  must  be  organized  and  all  common 
worship  held.  If  men  were  to  assert 
their  own  will  in  all  the  non-essential 
as  well  as  in  all  the  essential  points  of 
doctrine  and  worship,  there  would  be 
54 


The  Lesson  of  Life 

as  many  sects  as  there  are  persons,  and 
a  church  of  any  kind  would  be  impos 
sible.  In  the  family  the  individual 
preference,  desire,  and  ambition  must 
be  harmonized,  or  the  beauty  and  sanc 
tity  of  the  home  are  ruthlessly  and  often 
brutally  destroyed.  It  is  the  assertion 
of  raw,  crude,  selfish  individuality  which 
wrecks  so  many  families,  breeds  the 
scandal  of  easy  and  frequent  divorce, 
and  fills  the  newspapers  with  vulgar 
stories  of  infidelity,  recrimination,  and 
separation. 

These  tragedies  of  public,  religious, 
and  family  life  have  their  roots  in  the 
refusal  of  men  to  conform  to  the  will  of 
God  and  learn  the  lessons  which  he  has 
set  the  family,  the  Church,  and  the 
State  to  teach.  It  is  only  the  ignorant 
man  who  believes  that  freedom  is  to  be 
found  in  self-assertion,  that  happiness 
lies  in  having  one's  way  in  the  face  of 
law,  that  the  individual  will  can  prevail 
against  the  will  of  the  Infinite.  He  who 
has  learned  the  elementary  lessons  of 
55 


Works  and  Days 

life  has  discovered  that  it  is  sheer  mad 
ness  to  run  amuck  through  the  manifold 
and  divinely  ordered  laws  with  which 
life  is  encompassed  and  by  which  it  is 
protected.  History  presents  many  such 
figures,  running  with  flaming  torch  or 
drawn  sword  through  the  crowded  high 
ways  of  society,  inflicting  dangerous 
wounds  and  destroying  things  of  price 
less  value  which  lie  in  their  paths,  but 
doomed  from  the  beginning  to  final  and 
disastrous  failure.  XThis  universe  is  not 
a  chaos;  although  there  is  freedom  of 
choice  in  it,  no  man  breaks  its  laws  and 
escapes  the  penalty.  A  man  may  wreck 
himself  if  he  will ;  he  cannot  wreck 
God.  X 

To  refuse  to  conform  to  the  law  and 
order  of  the  world  is  a  sign,  therefore, 
not  of  strength  but  of  ignorance.  The 
violent  oppose,  resist,  storm,  and  hurl 
themselves  to  death  against  impassable 
barriers ;  the  strong  study,  observe, 
learn,  and  accept.  The  violent,  mis 
taking  lawlessness  for  freedom,  rush  on 
56 


The  Lesson  of  Life 

to  useless  and  barren  death ;  the  strong, 
by  submission  to  a  greater  wisdom, 
pass  through  obedience  to  liberty.  The 
strongest  and  most  victorious  figure  in 
history  is  Christ ;  but  among  all  men 
who  have  lived  none  ever  so  completely 
submitted  his  will  to  the  will  of  the 
Father,  vln  submission  and  resistance 
lie  the  fortunes  and  fates  of  men.v^  The 
egotists  —  the  raw,  crude  natures  who 
refuse  to  be  educated  —  struggle,  harden 
themselves,  persist  in  opposition,  refuse 
to  be  led,  and  are  either  crushed  by  the 
tremendous  forces  against  which  they 
oppose  their  puny  strength,  or  are  left 
sterile,  non-productive,  bitter,  and  un 
comprehending —  solitary  figures  in  a 
world  in  which  men  are  happy  and 
free  only  in  fellowship.  The  wise  bear 
the  burdens,  perform  the  tasks,  submit 
to  the  sorrows  of  life,  because  they 
believe  that  there  is  a  wisdom  above 
their  own,  and  that  that  wisdom  is  not 
only  knowledge  but  love.  They  wait 
upon  God  in  order  that  they  may  learn 
57 


Works  and  Days 

what  he  would  have  them  do ;  and  they 
are  taught  by  all  the  happenings  of  life, 
fertilized  rather  than  embittered  by  its 
sorrows,  and  gradually  led  into  the  pos 
session  of  freedom  and  power. 


TRUE  SELF-CONFIDENCE 

THERE  is  something  pathetic  in  the 
inability  which  prevents  a  great 
many  men  from  believing  in  the  best 
that  is  in  them.  There  seems  to  be,  if 
not  an  active,  at  least  a  passive,  con 
sciousness  of  infirmity  and  weakness 
which  brings  with  it,  for  most  men, 
not  only  spiritual  modesty,  but  a  self- 
distrust  which  stands  in  the  way  of  their 
highest  growth.  This  consciousness  of 
weakness  and  infirmity  is,  in  its  place, 
one  of  the  signs  of  the  kinship  of  the 
human  race  with  God ;  for  the  sense  of 
imperfection  always  carries  with  it  the 
conception  of  perfection.^  No  man  can 
realize  how  far  he  falls  short  of  the  mark 
unless  he  sees  the  mark  clearlyA  Deep 
in  the  heart  of  the  human  race  there  is  a 
profound  belief  in  the  higher  possibilities 
of  its  spiritual  development,  and  this  be 
lief  is  evidenced  by  the  shrinking  which 
59 


Works  and  Days 

prevents  a  great  many  men  from  taking 
that  faith  to  themselves.  This  diffidence 
or  self-distrust,  however  valuable  as  an 
element  of  growth,  if.  it  becomes  domi 
nant,  is  destructive  of  the  power  of 
growth.  Faith  may  be  accompanied  by 
great  consciousness  of  weakness,  but  it 
ought  to  bear  its  fruit  in  unlimited  belief 
in  the  power  to  overcome  weakness. 
Hosts  of  people  miss  the  best  things  in 
life  because  they  do  not  sufficiently  strive 
for  them.  They  believe  abstractly  in  the 
possibility  of  obtaining  them,  but  they 
do  not  believe  that  they  are  individually 
capable  of  achieving  these  best  things  ; 
they  see  the  stars  clearly,  but  through 
self-distrust  they  are  unable  to  follow 
Emerson's  maxim  and  hitch  their  wagons 
to  these  shining  points.  This  is  not  the 
mood  of  those  who  think  or  feel  or  do 
great  things.  x/  Men  rise  above  themselves 
—  that  is  to  say,  become  inspired  —  by 
putting  aside  their  weakness  and  trusting 
to  their  strength,  verifying  those  noble 
lines  of  Lowell : 

60 


True  Self-Confidence 

Those  love  truth  best  who  to  themselves  are  true, 
And  what  they  dare  to  dream  of,  dare  to  do./' 

As  the  earth  is  a  great  battery  of  force 
which  men  are  just  learning  how  to  use, 
and  which  is  to  add  immeasurably  to 
the  working  power  of  the  world  as  it 
becomes  utilized,  so  the  universe  is 
rilled  with  tides  of  spiritual  vitality, 
upon  which  men  can  draw,  and  will  draw, 
when  they  come  to  believe  in  and  realize 
that  these  sources  of  strength  are  open  to 
them,  rlf  humanity,  as  a  whole,  would 
believe  practically  in  its  ability  to  live 
the  highest  life  and  to  do  the  greatest 
things  to-morrow,  society  would  be  re 
generated,  and  there  would  come  an  age 
of  creativeness  the  like  of  which  the 
world  has  never  known.  For  creative- 
ness  is  largely  a  matter  of  attitude.  /God 
comes  to  those  who  wait ;  great  thoughts 
are  in  the  air  for  those  who  are  open- 
minded  ;  noble  impulses  crowd  the  high 
ways  for  those  who  are  ready  to  receive 
and  act  upon  them.  Life  is  common 
place  very  largely  because  men  do  not 
61 


Works  and  Days 

put  themselves  in  the  way  of  becoming 
poets  and  creators.  They  are  willing  to 
remain  mechanical  when  they  might  have 
the  spirit  and  the  soul  of  the  artist;  they 
are  content  to  imitate  when  they  might 
fashion  their  own  souls  with  their  own 
hands.  Not  all  men  can  be  great,  but 
every  man  can  enter  into  the  atmos 
phere  of  greatness  and  gain  its  vision  ; 
it  is  simply  a  question  of  believing  in 
the  best  things  and  in  our  power  to  at 
tain  them. 


62 


UNUSED  POWER 

ONE  of  the  most  interesting  things 
in  life  is  the  unexpected  develop 
ment  of  power  which  sometimes  takes 
place  in  people  who  have  before  shown 
little  or  no  promise  of  exceptional  energy 
or  ability.  This  development  is  some 
times  as  great  a  surprise  to  the  man  in 
whom  it  takes  place  as  to  his  friends. 
He  awakes  to  find  himself  in  possession 
of  a  force  the  presence  of  which,  even  in 
the  germ,  he  did  not  suspect.  What 
happens  in  such  a  case  is  not  the  sudden 
appearance  in  a  man's  nature  of  some 
thing  which  was  not  there  before  ;  it  is 
the  sudden  disclosure  of  something  which 
has  hitherto  been  concealed.  Men  do 
not  begin  life  fully  developed.  Occa 
sionally  a  man  appears  who  is  as  mature 
at  twenty-five  as  at  sixty,  but  this  rarely 
happens,  and  when  it  does  happen  it  is  a 
distinct  limitation.  Young  men,  as  a 
63 


Works  and  Days 

rule,  are  bundles  of  undeveloped  possi 
bilities.  They  grow  by  putting  forth  their 
strength  ;  and  the  fulness  and  symmetry 
of  their  unfolding  depend  largely  upon 
the  completeness  with  which  they  give 
out  what  is  in  them.  When  a  man  sud 
denly  discloses  a  power  the  presence  of 
which  he  did  not  suspect,  he  is  simply 
putting  forth  what  was  always  in  him. 
He  has  created  nothing  new,  he  has  taken 
nothing  in  from  without ;  he  has  simply 
used  his  own. 

It  is  probably  true  that  the  great  ma 
jority  of  men  never  fully  realize  their 
own  powers,  because  they  never  com 
pletely  put  them  forth.  Society  is  full  of 
undeveloped,  or  partially  developed  per 
sonalities, —  men  who  have  possibilities 
to  which  they  have  not  given  full  expres 
sion,  powers  which  they  have  not  thor 
oughly  trained,  capacities  which  they 
have  not  adequately  recognized.  It  is 
true  that  some  men  overwork  ;  that  is  to 
say,  they  do  one  thing  too  continuously, 
or  they  do  many  things  without  adequate 
64 


Unused  Power 

refreshment  and  variety  ;  but  very  few 
men  work  at  the  top  of  their  power. 
Very  few  men  completely  unfold  all  that 
is  in  them.  As  the  earth  is  full  of  trea 
sures  of  all  kinds,  the  existence  of  which 
is  not  suspected  in  many  localities,  and 
which  are  presently  to  bring  private  for 
tunes  and  general  prosperity  to  those 
localities,  so  there  are  men  and  women 
the  world  over  who  are  rich  in  power 
of  the  highest  kind,  but  who  have  no 
suspicion  of  the  fact  because  they  have 
never  given  themselves  full  development 
through  activity.  More  men  and  women 
fail  by  reason  of  under-estimation  of  their 
power  than  by  reason  of  over-valuation. 
As  a  rule,  people  of  conscience  do  not 
take  themselves  at  an  adequate  valuation  ; 
they  do  not  believe  enough  in  themselves. 
jlf  they  believed  more  in  their  own  re 
sources,  they  would  make  more  out  of 
their  lives.  It  is  astonishing  how  out 
ward  circumstances  will  sometimes  evolve 
unsuspected  energy  from  a  man  who  has 
heretofore  been  regarded  as  essentially 
5  65 


Works  and  Days 

commonplace  by  his  neighbors  and  by 
himself.  When  such  a  man  feels  the 
pressure  of  conditions,  he  often  awakes 
to  the  possession  of  a  power  which  re 
sponds  quickly  and  adequately  to  a  call 
from  without.  Every  great  crisis  calls, 
and  does  not  call  in  vain,  for  energy,  self- 
sacrifice,  and  genius ;  but  these  things 
ought  to  come  to  light  by  virtue  of 
inward  impulse ;  they  ought  not  to  de 
pend  on  outward  conditions.  A  man 
ought  to  put  forth  all  that  is  in  him  as  a 
matter  of  loyalty  to  himself  and  of  conse 
cration  to  his  fellows.  He  ought  to  lead 
in  the  evolution  of  spiritual  energy  rather 
than  allow  himself  to  be  dependent  on 
some  bugle-call  from  without.  To  be 
lieve  in  ourselves  in  the  sense  of  regard 
ing  ourselves  as  full  of  the  germs  of 
growth  is  not  only  to  secure  the  highest 
growth,  but  it  is  to  render  the  finest  ser 
vice  which  a  man  can  render  to  his  fel 
lows. 


66 


THE   POSITIVE   LIFE 

THERE  are  two  general  lines  of 
action  in  dealing  with  life,  the 
negative  and  the  positive.  A  great 
many  people  approach  the  experiences 
of  life  and  its  opportunities  from  the 
negative  side  and  are  fairly  successful ; 
though  the  great  majority  of  them  fail 
to  achieve  any  distinct  character  or  make 
any  lasting  mark.  To  approach  life 
from  the  negative  side  is  to  wait  on  op 
portunity,  to  take  what  the  day  brings, 
to  adjust  ourselves  with  constant  self- 
repression  to  the  opinions  and  wishes 
of  others,  to  fall  in  with  the  movement 
of  events,  and  to  get  the  impetus  which 
comes  from  the  current.  Many  attain 
a  certain  kind  of  external  success  along 
this  line.  They  have  many  well-wishers, 
if  few  warm  friends ;  they  are  often 
popular,  even  if  they  are  not  greatly 
respected;  they  are  sought  after  even 
67 


Works  and  Days 

when  they  are  not  honored,  and  the 
external  appearance  of  success  conceals 
to  a  certain  extent  the  fact  of  failure. 
To  this  class  belong  all  the  merely 
politic  opportunists ;  those  who  are 
made  by  conditions  and  advanced  by 
circumstances,  who  are  lifted  on  general 
movements  and  carried  into  port  by  fair 
winds.  To  this  class  belonged  Lord 
Godolphin,  of  whom  Charles  II.  once 
said,  with  characteristic  wit,  that  he  was 
"  never  in  the  way  and  never  out  of  it." 
This  kind  of  living  involves  constant 
watchfulness  of  others  and  intense  stu- 
diousness  of  conditions.  V  The  man  who 
has  neither  steam  nor  sails  must  watch 
the  currents  very  closely  and  keep  his 
eye  constantly  on  the  tides,  v  The  wear 
and  tear  of  constant  adjustment  to  the 
wishes  of  the  community  and  to  fortu 
nate  conditions  are  never  relaxed  in  the 
case  of  the  opportunist.  He  can  never 
afford  to  make  mistakes  of  judgment : 
his  success  depends  upon  doing  the 
politic  thing  at  the  right  moment,  saying 
68 


The  Positive  Life 

the  persuasive  word  at  the  proper  point, 
and  putting  himself  in  the  way  at  the 
exact  second  when  he  may  be  noticed  or 
needed.  He  who  studies  popular  favor 
in  public  life  must  needs  have  a  quick 
eye  and  a  long  memory  ;  he  must  culti 
vate  agility  of  motion,  rapidity  of 
thought,  and  skill  in  transferring  his 
principles  from  side  to  side  without  too 
obvious  inconsistency.  This  life,  which 
seems  easier,  is  much  the  hardest,  because 
it  lacks  entirely  that  repose  which  comes 
from  resting  on  principle,  and  that  con 
stant  nourishment  of  the  inward  spirit 
which  flows  from  harmony  with  the 
deeper  laws  of  life. 

Dealing  with  the  positive  side  of  life, 
on  the  other  hand,  involves  a  certain 
indifference  to  the  conditions  of  the  mo 
ment  ;  the  indifference,  not  of  contempt, 
but  of  preoccupation  with  higher  things  ; 
a  certain  lack  of  care  for  the  opinions  of 
others,  not  from  selfishness  or  coldness, 
but  because  one's  opinions  are  formed  on 
a  different  basis.  The  man  who  actively 
69 


Works  and  Days 

and  positively  fashions  his  own  career 
and  develops  his  own  character  has  an 
inward  purpose,  an  unseen  aim,  to  which 
he  constantly  directs  his  attention.  He 
may  be  a  long  time  in  forming  this  pur 
pose  or  in  perfectly  discerning  this  aim, 
but  when  these  ultimate  ends  are  once 
clear  to  him  he  is  forever  rid  of  all  un 
certainty.  Winds  and  storms  are  in  a 
certain  sense  matters  of  as  little  conse 
quence  to  him  as  to  the  great  ocean 
steamers  which  sail  to  their  havens  with 
sublime  disregard  of  all  external  circum 
stances  ;  they  are  set  to  a  course,  and 
nothing  drives  them  out  of  that  course. 
In  like  manner  he  who  shapes  his  course 
to  a  distant  and  clearly  defined  point  is 
not  swept  out  of  it  by  passing  winds  of 
popular  favor  or  disfavor,  or  by  chang 
ing  currents  of  popular  opinion.  Hav 
ing  an  inward  purpose,  his  relations  with 
men  form  themselves  on  a  natural  and 
spiritual  basis.  He  does  not  need  to 
weigh  men  according  to  their  value  for 

his  own  uses  ;   he  is  not  looking  to  them 
70 


The  Positive  Life 

for  the  development  of  his  own  career. 
What  he  wants  from  them  are  the  things 
which  he  is  willing  to  give  them  —  affec 
tion,  sympathy,  interest,  and  co-opera 
tion.  He  is  not  bent  upon  using  them 
simply  as  aids;  they  do  not  work  into 
his  plan  of  life.  He  is  lifted  above  all 
those  sordid  and  selfish  relationships  in 
which  a  man  entangles  himself  when  he 
attempts  to  use  friends  to  forward  his 
own  ends. 

Nor  need  the  man  of  inward  purpose 
concern  himself  with  consistency  of  life. 
There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  than  the 
reaction  of  a  high  ideal  upon  the  actions 
of  the  man  or  woman  who  cherishes  it ; 
for  an  ideal  steadily  pursued  sooner  or 
later  shapes  a  constant  and  harmonious 
character,  and  we  come  at  last  to  know 
what  the  ideals  of  men  are  by  the  char 
acter  which  those  ideals  have  formed. 
Nothing  is  so  fundamental  in  creating  a 
real  and  noble  personality  as  the  choice 
of  a  high  ideal ;  let  a  man  choose  such 
an  ideal  and  follow  it  loyally  and  he  may 


Works  and  Days 

give  up  all  concern  for  his  character  ;  it 
will  form  itself.  Such  a  man  is  emanci 
pated,  not  only  from  the  temptation  to 
be  selfish  in  his  friendship,  but  from 
most  of  the  fears  that  beset  men  of  less 
clearness  of  purpose.  Such  a  man  is 
much  less  affected  by  the  happenings  of 
outward  fortune,  by  material  disaster  of 
every  kind,  than  a  man  who  has  not  this 
inward  guidance  and  constant  pressure 
of  the  ideal  upon  his  own  nature.  He 
is  emancipated  from  fear  of  men  because 
men  can  neither  make  nor  mar  his 
career;  he  is  emancipated  from  fear  of 
disaster  because  conditions  can  neither 
make  nor  mar  his  career ;  his  only 
source  of  fear  is  disloyalty  to  his  own 
purpose,  and  that  is  a  fear  which  guards 
and  protects  rather  than  depresses. 
Such  a  man  discards,  one  by  one,  all 
those  things  which  belittle  human  life 
and  fill  it  with  weakening  and  corroding 
anxieties.  He  is  not  disturbed  by  the 
confusion  of  aims  which  he  finds  in  the 

world  about  him ;  he  is  not  concerned 
72 


The  Positive  Life 

about  his  enemies,  for  he  has  none  whom 
he  has  consciously  made  ;  he  thinks  gen 
erously  and  fearlessly  of  his  friends,  and 
he  is  lifted  above  all  the  outward  changes 
of  fortune  by  the  spirituality  of  the  end 
which  he  has  chosen. 


73 


WHICH   BACKGROUND? 

IN  the  work  of  an  artistic  temperament 
it  is  easy  to  discover  the  background 
against  which  that  work  is  done,  because 
the  background  of  the  life  of  a  sensitive 
man  leaves  its  impress  upon  his  imagina 
tion.  Wordsworth's  poetry  is  touched 
throughout  with  the  elusive  and  mysteri 
ous  beauty  of  the  Lake  region,  and 
Scott's  verse  with  the  loveliness  of  that 
wild  and  beautiful  scenery  which  he  knew 
so  well  along  the  banks  of  the  Tweed 
and  among  the  southern  Scottish  lakes ; 
again  and  again  one  hears  in  Tennyson's 
verse  the  roar  of  the  sea  along  the  coast 
of  Lincolnshire,  and  one  sees  in  the  back 
ground  of  many  of  Titian's  pictures  those 
mountain  forms  with  which  his  youth 
was  familiar.  Ruskin  has  described  in 
one  of  his  most  eloquent  passages  the 
loveliness  of  sky  and  sea  which  enveloped 
74 


Which  Background? 

the  young  imagination  of  Giorgione  and 
gave  his  work  its  penetrating  splendor. 

It  is  not  within  the  power  of  every 
man  to  choose  his  background.  Some 
men  are  born  far  from  the  majesty  of 
mountains  and  the  glory  of  the  sea.  It 
is  impossible  for  some  men  to  select  their 
surroundings  ;  but  there  is  another  back 
ground  than  that  of  material  forms,  as 
there  is  another  expression  of  a  man's 
spirit  than  that  of  tangible  work :  there 
is  a  background  of  thought  and  there  is 
a  life  of  the  mind.  Those  who  have 
spiritual  or  literary  insight  are  able  to 
discern  in  a  man's  thought  the  back 
ground  of  his  spiritual  life ;  they  know, 
if  they  have  penetration,  what  images 
and  ideals  he  sees  in  the  hours  when  his 
mind  is  free  and  he  lives  in  himself  rather 
than  in  the  expression  of  himself.  One 
knows  without  being  told  what  ideas 
were  in  the  mind  of  Emerson  when  he 
gave  free  rein  to  his  thought,  and  it  is 
not  difficult  to  imagine  what  kind  of 
images  thrilled  Carlyle  in  those  lonely 
75 


Works  and  Days 

walks  in  the  days  when  "  Sartor  Resar- 
tus"  was  being  written.  Great  spirits 
dwell  habitually  with  great  ideas ;  these 
ideas  are  their  chosen  companions,  the 
intimate  friends  of  leisure  hours;  it  is  by 
contact  with  such  ideas  that  the  springs 
of  inspiration  are  fed  when  they  have 
been  drawn  upon ;  it  is  in  the  fellowship 
of  such  ideas  that  the  ideals  of  life  are 
purified  when  they  have  been  tarnished. 
The  deepest  and  richest  part  of  a  man's 
life  is  unconscious.  A  great  deal  of  his 
most  fruitful  thinking  goes  on  without 
his  direction,  and  when  he  is  not  aware 
that  his  mind  is  at  work.  The  greatness 
of  his  nature  and  the  value  of  his  thought 
will  depend  largely  upon  what  the  mind 
does  when  he  is  not  consciously  directing 
it;  will  depend,  in  other  words,  on  the 
ideas,  the  fundamental  principles,  the 
absorbing  problems  to  which  it  reverts 
by  instinct,  by  habit,  and  by  affinity  when 
it  is  free  to  select  its  own  objects.  These 
are  its  background.  No  man  can  conceal 
himself;  no  man  can  hide  the  background 
76 


Which  Background? 

of  his  mind,  and  that  background  is  of 
his  own  choosing.  It  lies  in  the  power 
of  each  of  us  to  live  with  the  greatest 
ideas,  the  noblest  ideals,  the  most  in 
spiring  achievements  in  the  history  of 
man,  or  to  content  ourselves  with  the 
mediocrities,  the  commonplaces,  and  the 
vulgarities  of  our  time. 


THE   PRAYER   OF   LOVE 

THERE  is  a  beautiful  and  signifi 
cant  phrase  in  one  of  the  Maxims 
of  Ani  which  is  as  full  of  meaning  as  it 
was  when  it  was  written,  probably  thirty- 
five  hundred  years  ago.  "  What  the 
sanctuary  of  God  detests,"  wrote  the 
wise  Egyptian,  "  are  noisy  feasts  ;  if  thou 
implorest  Him  with  a  loving  heart,  .  .  . 
He  will  do  thy  affairs."  There  are  as 
many  forms  of  prayer  as  there  are  peti 
tioners,  and  every  form  which  is  a  natural 
and  sincere  expression  of  the  love,  the 
gratitude,  the  praise,  the  worship,  or  the 
need  of  a  human  spirit  is  good  and 
acceptable.  Men  not  only  pray  in  as 
many  languages  as  they  speak,  but  every 
man  prays  in  a  language  of  his  own ;  and 
God  understands  them  all.  For  men 
use  speech  because  they  know  so  little  of 
one  another  and  must  put  thought  or 
78 


The  Prayer  of  Love 

feeling  into  words  if  they  would  make 
either  comprehensible ;  but  God  under 
stands  all  before  we  speak,  and  our  un- 
uttered  prayers  are  as  audible  to  him  as 
those  which  we  put  into  words. 

Indeed,  the  value  of  the  spoken  prayer 
depends  entirely  on  the  prayer  which 
rises  to  God  without  passing  through 
the  mist  of  words ;  the  prayer  which 
rises  out  of  the  deeps  of  our  own  natures, 
and  which  is  the  only  true  and  complete 
expression  of  our  spirits.  Words  are 
idle  unless  there  is  a  thought  which  fills 
them  to  their  full  capacity.  Nothing  is 
so  valueless  as  speech  which  has  no  roots 
in  character ;  nothing  more  noble  than 
great  speech  when  it  is  the  unforced 
utterance  of  a  great  faith,  a  great  con 
viction,  or  a  great  purpose.  Spoken 
prayer  is  not  only  profitless  but  profane 
when  it  is  touched  with  perfunctoriness, 
indifference,  or  formalism  ;  it  is  unspeak 
ably  holy  when  it  is  to  the  silent  petition 
of  the  whole  nature  and  life  what  the 
few  drops  flung  from  the  river  into  the 
79 


Works  and  Days 

sunlight  and  shining  there  a  brief  mo 
ment  are  to  the  deep  and  quiet  stream 
from  which  they  are  taken. 

Every  life  is  an  invocation  to  the  best 
or  the  worst ;  an  invitation  to  good  or  to 
evil;  a  petition  to  God  for  forgiveness 
and  help  or  an  unuttered  profanity. 
The  more  pure  and  beautiful  the  nature, 
the  more  sincere  and  noble  the  unspoken 
appeal  which  it  makes.  Every  person  of 
any  sensitiveness  has  often  felt  this  silent 
invocation  of  a  rare  and  beautiful  spirit. 
There  are  little  children  whose  innocence 
touches  us  with  such  compassionate- 
ness  that  we  long  to  take  them  in  our 
arms  and  bear  them  beyond  the  reach 
of  harm  and  pollution  ;  there  are  women 
of  such  fineness  of  character,  such  ex 
quisite  harmony  of  nature,  that  we  are 
filled  with  a  passionate  longing  to  shield 
them  from  care  and  calamity ;  there 
are  generous  and  noble-hearted  men  for 
whom  we  long  to  clear  the  way,  that  all 
their  rich  possibilities  may  be  brought  to 
beautiful  fruition.  A  fine,  high,  aspir- 
80 


The  Prayer  of  Love 

ing  nature  always  makes  an  appeal  to  us, 
utters  an  unspoken  prayer  of  which  it  is 
Unconscious  but  which  is  a  complete  ex 
pression  and  revelation  of  its  secret  hopes 
and  loves. 

If  these  silent  appeals  come  to  us  as 
the  fragrance  steals  from  the  flower  by 
the  diffusive  quality  of  its  own  sweetness, 
how  much  more  direct  and  powerful 
must  be  their  appeal  to  One  whose  his 
tory,  so  far  as  it  is  written  in  human 
records,  is  the  history  of  a  love  which 
seeks  the  lost  before  the  lost  know  that 
they  are  lost,  and  gives  its  life  before  the 
need  of  that  divine  sacrifice  is  felt  ?  And 
what  appeal  can  reach  the  Infinite  Love 
so  swiftly  as  the  prayer  of  a  loving  heart; 
the  unconscious  and  unspoken  longing 
of  those  who  love  for  a  return  of  that 
which  they  are  always  giving?  For 
God  is  not  afar  off;  he  is  nearer  to  us 
than  those  whose  voices  we  hear  and 
whose  hands  we  touch.  The  pure  and 
loving  are  always  in  his  presence;  they 

do   not  need  to  speak ;  he  understands 
6  81 


Works  and  Days 

without  words  ;  he  knows  all  things,  but 
he  must  know  best  the  hearts  that  love, 
for  they  are  nearest  him,  not  only  in 
place,  but  in  nature.  Between  him  and 
them  there  is  a  fellowship  which  is  deeper 
and  greater  than  speech ;  a  fellowship 
which  rests  on  foundations  that  are  deeper 
than  human  consciousness.  He  has  been 
always  coming  to  them,  and  they  are  always 
drawing  nearer  to  him.  The  prayer  of  a 
loving  heart  is  a  prayer  which  is  granted 
before  it  is  spoken ;  for  God  is  love, 
and  love  goes  to  its  own  by  a  divine  im 
pulsion.  The  prayers  of  those  that 
love,  like  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers, 
are  the  deep  breathings  of  the  soul,  and 
the  answering  love  of  God  is  the  atmos 
phere  in  which  they  exhale.  The  secret 
of  prayer  is  not  insistence  ;  it  is  sharing 
the  divine  nature.  They  who  love  pray 
unceasingly,  and  unceasingly  God  an 
swers  them. 


82 


PERSONAL  ATMOSPHERE 

IN  this  country  emphasis  is  continually 
laid  upon  action,  as  if  action  were 
the  only  expression  of  character.  Now, 
action  is  in  the  last  degree  important, 
because  character  cannot  be  formed  with 
out  it.  It  is  through  action  that  strength 
comes  ;  it  is  by  action  that  the  inchoate 
possibilities  of  a  nature  are  rounded,  har 
monized,  and  solidified  into  a  harmonious 
and  developed  individuality.  But  every 
action  must  have  its  reaction  upon  the 
nature  of  the  man  who  puts  it  forth  ;  if 
it  does  not,  it  fails  of  that  which  is,  for 
him,  its  highest  result;  for  the  finest  ex 
pression  of  a  man's  nature  is  not  to  be 
found  in  his  action,  but  in  that  very 
intangible  thing  which  we  call  his  atmos 
phere.  There  are  a  great  many  people 
who  are  alert,  energetic,  and  decisive,  but 
who  give  forth  very  little  of  this  rare  and 
spiritual  effluence  —  this  quality  which 
83 


Works  and  Days 

seems  to  issue  out  of  the  very  recesses 
of  one's  nature.  It  is,  however,  through 
this  quality  that  the  most  constant  in 
fluence  is  exercised  ;  that  influence  which 
is  not  only  put  forth  most  steadily,  but 
which  penetrates  and  affects  others  in  the 
most  searching  way.  The  air  we  breathe 
has  much  to  do  with  health  ;  in  a  relax 
ing  atmosphere  it  is  difficult  to  work  ;  in 
an  atmosphere  of  vitality  it  is  easy  to 
work.  Men  are  stimulated  or  depressed 
by  the  air  they  breathe  ;  in  like  manner, 
and  as  unconsciously,  we  are  stimulated 
or  depressed  by  the  atmosphere  which 
envelops  those  with  whom  we  associate. 
We  never  meet  some  men  without  going 
away  from  them  with  our  ideals  a  little 
blurred  or  our  faith  in  them  a  little  dis 
turbed  ;  we  can  never  part  from  others 
without  a  sense  of  increased  hope.  There 
are  men  who  invigorate  us  by  simple  con 
tact  ;  something  escapes  from  them  of 
which  they  are  not  aware,  and  which  we 
cannot  analyze,  which  makes  us  believe 
more  deeply  in  ourselves  and  our  kind. 
84 


Personal  Atmosphere 

So  far  as  charm  is  concerned,  there  is 
no  quality  which  contributes  so  much  to 
it  as  the  subtle  thing  we  call  atmosphere. 
There  are  some  women  who  do  not  need 
to  speak  in  order  not  only  to  awaken 
our  respect,  but  to  give  us  a  sense  of 
something  rare  and  fine.  In  such  an  in 
fluence  all  that  is  most  individual  and 
characteristic  flows  together,  and  the 
woman  reveals  herself  without  being  con 
scious  that  she  is  making  herself  known. 
Such  an  atmosphere  in  a  home  creates  a 
sentiment  and  organizes  a  life  which 
would  not  be  possible  if  one  should  at 
tempt  to  fashion  these  things  by  inten 
tion.  The  finest  things,  like  happiness, 
must  be  sought  by  indirection,  and  are 
the  results  of  character  rather  than  ob 
jects  of  immediate  pursuit. 

A  man  may  be  always  less  or  greater 
than  his  surroundings.  The  key  of  the 
play  for  the  imagination  is  not  the  stage 
setting,  but  the  actor  ;  the  audience  which 
saw  the  first  rendering  of  "  Lear"  or 
"  Hamlet,"  with  their  bare  surroundings 
85 


Works  and  Days 

and  their  lack  of  scenic  effects,  may  have 
been  far  more  profoundly  stirred  than 
many  modern  audiences  which  are  as 
sailed  through  every  sense,  but  whose 
imagination  is  often  entirely  untouched. 
Nothing  really  moves  us  until  a  man 
speaks,  and  then  we  are  on  fire.  This 
is  what  Emerson  meant  when  he  said, 
"  The  day  is  always  his  who  works  in 
it  with  serenity  and  great  aims."  Men 
are  in  society,  not  to  accept  things  as 
they  find  them  and  to  conform  to  the 
standards  of  those  about  them,  but  to 
create  and  impress  their  own  standards  ; 
to  carry  their  own  atmosphere  with 
them.  It  is  amazing  how  quickly  any 
kind  of  original  expression  is  recognized, 
and  how  easily  the  courageous  man  sep 
arates  himself  from  the  standards  of  those 
about  him.  The  weary  audience  which 
has  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  means  of  a 
stream  of  commonplace  talk  is  instantly 
erect  and  attentive  when  a  man  who  has 
something  to  say,  and  knows  how  to  say 
it,  begins  to  speak.  Such  a  man  changes 
86 


Personal  Atmosphere 

the  atmosphere  before  his  auditors  are 
aware.  He  carries  with  him  an  atmos 
phere  which  silently  diffuses  itself.  Such 
an  atmosphere  is  not  to  be  sought  di 
rectly  ;  it  is  to  be  secured  only  by  cleans 
ing  and  deepening  the  springs  of  life  in 
the  soul. 


87 


THE    LARGER  RELATIONSHIP 

THERE  is  a  passage  in  "The  Mill 
on  the  Floss"  which  will  bear 
meditation.  "  Maggie's  heart,"  writes 
George  Eliot,  "  went  out  toward  this 
woman  whom  she  had  never  liked,  and 
she  kissed  her  silently.  It  was  the  first 
sign  within  the  poor  child  of  that  new 
sense  which  is  the  gift  of  sorrow  —  that 
susceptibility  to  the  bare  phases  of  hu 
manity  which  raises  them  into  a  bond  of 
living  fellowship,  as  to  haggard  men 
among  the  icebergs  the  mere  presence 
of  an  ordinary  comrade  stirs  the  deep 
fountain  of  affection."  Behind  all  per 
sonal  relationships  which  men  establish 
with  one  another,  there  is  the  common 
bond  of  the  universal  human  relation 
ship,  —  this  larger  fellowship  inclosing  all 
lesser  fellowships,  as  the  nation  includes 
all  shades  of  citizenship.  All  men  and 


The  Larger  Relationship 

women  of  any  sensitiveness  put  the 
highest  value  on  personal  relationships, 
and  count  their  friends  among  the  fore 
most  gifts  of  life  and  their  friendships 
among  their  invaluable  possessions  ;  but 
there  are  a  great  many  who  never  recog 
nize  in  any  practical  way  the  larger 
fellowship  of  humanity ;  who  treat 
friendship  as  if  it  were  a  luxury  to  be 
prized  and  guarded  like  a  precious  vase 
or  a  rare  book,  and  not  a  large,  free, 
noble  opportunity  for  drawing  out  the 
best  from  another  and  giving  the  best  in 
return. 

Our  friendships  are  often  selfish  with 
out  our  being  conscious  of  the  fact. 
We  look  to  friendship  as  a  fountain 
from  which  only  sweet  waters  ought  to 
flow,  —  as  a  tie  which  ought  to  bring  us 
only  cheer,  comfort,  and  pleasure.  But 
friendship  has  obligations  and  duties, 
and  is  to  be  sought,  not  only  among 
those  who  are  by  nature  akin  to  us,  and 
who  therefore  fall  in  with  every  mood 
and  respond  to  every  emotion,  but 
89 


Works  and  Days 

among  those  who  in  many  ways  may 
be  personally  distasteful.  Most  men 
and  women  are  thrown  to  a  considerable 
degree  with  those  to  whom  they  are  not 
personally  drawn ;  whose  personality, 
manners,  temper,  or  quality  of  mind 
repels  rather  than  attracts ;  and  when 
intimacy  with  such  persons  is  forced 
upon  us  by  circumstances,  we  rebel 
against  it  as  an  intrusion  upon  a  domain 
over  which  we  have  absolute  sovereignty. 
Such  persons  often  stand  related  to  us 
in  positions  in  which  it  is  practically 
impossible  not  to  accept  them  as  friends. 
Our  instinct  tells  us  that  we  have  a  right 
to  avoid  intimacies  with  all  who  are  not 
thoroughly  congenial,  but  the  conditions 
of  life  often  contravene  the  instincts  and 
place  us  in  intimacies  without  our  will. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  is  pos 
sible  to  take  one  of  two  attitudes :  an 
attitude  of  unwilling  acceptance,  or  an 
attitude  of  open-minded  endeavor  to  get 
the  best  out  of  an  association  which  we 
did  not  seek ;  to  attempt  to  substitute 
90 


The  Larger  Relationship 

for  the  personal  tie  the  universal  tie, 
and  to  treat  our  forced  companionship 
as  a  chance  to  learn  something  more  of 
our  common  humanity.  If  one  has  the 
clearness  of  sight  and  the  courtesy  of 
soul  to  accept  an  enforced  relationship 
in  this  spirit,  it  is  surprising  how  much 
he  can  give  and  how  much  he  can  get 
out  of  that  relationship.  Out  of  such 
companionships,  unsought  and  reluc 
tantly  accepted,  have  sometimes  come 
the  sweetest  of  friendships ;  and  in  all 
such  companionships  there  are  the  rich 
est  possibilities  of  mutual  helpfulness 
and  therefore  of  common  growth.  We 
cannot  afford  to  be  selfish  in  the  selection 
of  our  friends;  if  we  are,  we  diminish 
our  own  capacity  and  contract  our  own  re 
sources  for  spiritual  growth.  The  strong 
nature  can  afford  to  give  where  it  does 
not  look  for  a  return ;  to  develop  an 
interest  where  it  does  not  instinctively 
feel  one ;  to  foster  a  regard  and  admira 
tion  when  these  things  do  not  come 
of  themselves.  It  owes,  as  a  matter  of 


Works  and  Days 

fact,  quite  as  much  to  the  larger  relation 
ship  which  is  forced  upon  men  by  the 
mere  fact  of  race-fellowship  as  it  owes 
to  those  carefully  sought  and  piously 
guarded  relationships  between  man  and 
man  which  count  for  so  much  in  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  life. 


92 


IN    REMEMBRANCE 

THERE  is  something  very  beautiful 
and  significant  in  the  revelation  of 
character  which  death  makes.  On  the 
face  of  one  who  has  fallen  asleep  after 
the  work  of  life  there  often  comes  a 
deep  and  tender  peace ;  as  if,  at  last,  the 
real  nature  had  a  chance  to  disclose  itself 
in  the  shining  of  the  face.  And  those 
who  look  at  the  still  countenance  are 
often  penetrated  with  the  feeling  that 
something  foreign  and  temporary  has 
vanished  and,  like  the  taking  away  of 
a  veil,  made  room  for  that  which  was  real 
and  permanent.  The  best  men  and 
women  are  so  involved  in  a  multitude 
of  small  duties  that  they  sometimes  lose 
sight  of  the  goal  to  which  they  are 
loyally  moving ;  they  are  often  mis 
represented  by  personal  peculiarities  and 
passing  moods,  and  we  fail  to  discern 
each  instant  the  large  nobility  of  their 
93 


Works  and  Days 

aims.  Working  in  crowded  ranks,  in  the 
dust,  heat,  and  uproar  of  the  workshop 
of  life,  we  fail  to  recognize  the  great 
ness  or  beauty  of  those  who  stand  beside 
us.  But  when  death  comes  and  brings 
its  wonderful  silence,  all  the  mists  and 
clouds  vanish,  and  we  see  with  clear 
vision.  Then,  in  an  instant,  the  long 
patience,  the  high  idealism,  the  hatred 
of  meanness,  the  passionate  pursuit  of 
the  best,  the  affection  which  was  tenderly 
urgent  rather  than  weakly  indulgent, 
shine  before  us,  and  we  wonder  that  our 
eyes  were  so  long  holden.  And  as  the 
years  go  by  and  the  perspective  of  time 
lengthens,  the  true  proportions  of  char 
acter,  the  large  lines  of  life,  become  more 
distinct.  Blessed  are  the  dead  when  they 
live  with  increasing  nobility  and  beauty 
in  the  memory  of  those  who  knew  and 
loved  them  ! 

Recognition  is  a  matter  of  secondary 

importance  to  the  brave,  the  true,  and 

the  good ;  but  it  is  a  matter  of  prime 

importance   to    others.     Not  to  discern 

94 


In  Remembrance 

nobility  in  every  form,  or  to  suffer  it  to 
become  obscured  by  personal  peculiarities 
or  moods,  is  to  miss  one  of  the  richest 
opportunities  of  growth.  It  is  well  to 
remember  that  only  the  good  believe  in 
the  good,  and  to  the  noble  alone  is  given 
the  power  to  recognize  that  which  is 
noble. 

"  It  is  a  true  discrimination,"  said 
Phillips  Brooks,  "  that  recognizes  the 
presence  of  God  in  men,  the  saints  that 
are  in  the  world,  not  by  the  miracles 
they  work  but  by  the  miracles  they  are, 
by  the  way  in  which  they  bring  the 
grace  of  God  to  bear  on  the  simple 
duties  of  the  household  and  the  street. 
The  sainthoods  of  the  fireside  and  of 
the  market-place  —  they  wear  no  glory 
round  their  heads ;  they  do  their  duties 
in  the  strength  of  God ;  they  have  their 
martyrdoms  and  win  their  palms,  and 
though  they  get  into  no  calendars,  they 
leave  a  benediction  and  a  force  behind 
them  on  the  earth  when  they  go  up  to 
heaven." 

95 


THE  CONTAGION  OF  FAITH 

IT  is  a  significant  fact  that  every  intelli 
gent  man  finds  it  necessary  to  have 
what  is  called  a  working  theory  of  life;  in 
other  words,  every  man  feels  compelled, 
in  order  to  live  at  all  and  do  any 
work,  to  accept  some  conception  of  life 
which  makes  room  for  action  and  place 
for  hope.  The  consistent  pessimists  who 
believe  nothing  and  hope  for  nothing  are 
few.  In  pessimism  there  are  almost 
numberless  gradations,  from  despair  up 
to  that  conventional  pose  into  which  so 
many  people  have  fallen  of  late  years, — 
fallen  so  completely  that  it  has  become 
second  nature  to  look  at  the  dark  side  of 
things  and  to  take  gloomy  views.  This 
attitude  does  not,  however,  in  the  least 
interfere  with  the  pleasure  which  the 
average  pessimist  finds  in  life,  nor  with 
the  satisfaction  which  he  takes  in  his  own 
96 


The  Contagion  of  Faith 

work.  He  has,  as  has  been  said,  "the 
best  possible  time  in  the  worst  possible 
world."  The  men  who  profess  to  find 
neither  order  nor  meaning  nor  beauty  in 
life  are  very  often  persons  who  work  as 
if  the  objects  which  they  are  striving  to 
obtain  were  worth  securing ;  who  hold 
themselves  to  a  scrupulous  performance 
of  duty,  as  if  duty  were  not  only  obliga 
tory,  but  were  worth  doing ;  and  who 
are  loyal  in  all  their  personal  relations, 
as  if  loyalty  were  not  only  a  matter  of 
morality  but  also  a  source  of  pleasure. 

To  be  consistently  pessimistic  one 
must  believe  nothing,  hope  nothing,  and 
do  nothing.  The  moment  a  man  hopes, 
believes,  or  acts,  he  ceases  to  be  a  consist 
ent  pessimist.  An  effective  argument 
can  be  made  for  pessimism  as  a  philo 
sophical  theory ;  as  a  working  theory  it 
is  untenable  unless  one  so  modifies  it  as 
practically  to  destroy  its  force.  There 
are  a  few  smitten  and  hunted  creatures 
here  and  there  in  society  who,  if  they 
took  their  own  experience  as  a  basis  for  a 
7  97 


Works  and  Days 

judgment  of  the  value  of  life,  might, 
with  some  show  of  decency,  proclaim 
themselves  pessimists ;  but,  by  an  enor 
mous  majority,  men  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  in  the  worst  times,  find  some 
thing  which  is  worth  living  for  and  some 
thing  which  is  worth  doing.  The  man 
who  follows  pessimism  to  a  consistent 
end  is  to  be  found  only  in  the  list  of 
suicides.  The  instincts  of  humanity,  as 
well  as  its  intelligence,  its  insight,  and 
its  inspiration,  are  against  a  view  of  life 
which  makes  life  unbearable. 

But  while  pessimism  as  a  working 
theory  finds  very  few  consistent  ad 
herents,  pessimism  as  an  intellectual  pose 
finds  many  who  are  only  too  ready  to 
take  courage  out  of  the  hearts  of  those 
with  whom  they  have  influence  ;  for  the 
most  unfortunate  result  of  the  pessimistic 
pose  is  the  devitalization  which  it  effects. 
It  takes  the  tonic  out  of  the  atmosphere 
in  which  men  live ;  it  saps  their  hopes  in 
the  exact  degree  in  which  they  accept  it; 
it  not  only  destroys  their  illusions  but 
98 


The  Contagion  of  Faith 

their  aspirations  as  well.  It  is  a  kind  of 
blight  on  the  finer  growths  of  the  spirit. 
The  best  things  in  men  are  evoked  by 
their  own  faith  in  themselves,  or  by  the 
faith  of  others  in  them.  He  who  believes 
that  another  is  base  has  taken  the  first 
step,  and  perhaps  the  most  effective  one, 
toward  making  that  other  base;  while  he 
who  treats  one  who  is  undeserving  as  if 
he  were  deserving  has  taken  the  first  and 
perhaps  the  most  effective  step  toward 
rehabilitating  a  fallen  man. 

There  are  two  spirits  in  every  man, 
and  these  spirits  are  contending  together 
for  the  mastery.  In  all  our  relations  we 
make  our  choice  whether  we  shall  evoke 
the  best  or  the  worst  in  those  whom  we 
meet ;  whether  we  shall  liberate  the  best 
that  is  in  them  or  invigorate  the  worst. 
There  are  men  who  go  through  life  and 
do  no  evil  so  far  as  action  is  concerned, 
but  who  blight  everything  fine  and  fair 
which  comes  in  their  way,  by  the  chil 
ling  breath  of  skepticism  ;  there  are 
others  who  have  a  genius  for  calling  out 
99 


Works  and  Days 

the  best.  It  was  impossible  not  to  believe 
in  the  nobility  and  dignity  of  life  when 
one  listened  to  Phillips  Brooks;  his  at 
mosphere  made  skepticism  incredible. 
When  Hume  declared  that  he  believed 
in  immortality  whenever  he  remembered 
his  mother,  he  was  bearing  testimony  to 
the  almost  divine  influence  which  women 
of  the  highest  type  always  exert,  and 
which  they  often  exert  in  entire  uncon 
sciousness.  What  a  man  believes  or 
what  he  disbelieves  is  a  vital  matter,  not 
only  for  himself,  but  for  others.  Let 
him  believe  in  the  best,  and,  however 
full  of  faults  and  imperfections  he  may 
be,  there  will  be  in  his  own  nature  a  slow 
but  tidal  movement  toward  goodness, 
and  he  will  make  the  attainment  of 
virtue  easier  for  all  who  know  him.  Let 
a  man  disbelieve  in  the  possibility  of 
purity,  integrity,  and  unselfishness,  and, 
although  he  may  have  great  ability  and 
many  attractive  qualities,  he  will  smirch 
the  society  through  which  he  passes,  and 
leave  a  blackened  trail  behind  him. 
100 


The  Contagion  of  Faith 

When  a  man  comes  to  look  back  on  his 
own  life,  his  most  blessed  comfort  may 
be  the  discernment  for  the  first  time 
that  he  has  helped  instead  of  hindered; 
and  his  most  terrible  punishment  may 
be  the  discernment  for  the  first  time  of 
the  aid  which  he  has  given  unconsciously 
and  unintentionally  to  the  process  of 
moral  disintegration  and  spiritual  decline 
in  those  about  him. 


101 


DANGEROUS  FOES 

IT  was  said  of  Jeremy  Taylor  that 
"  nature  Had  befriended  much  in  his 
constitution,  for  he  was  a  person  of  most 
sweet  and  obliging  humour,  and  of  great 
candour  and  ingenuity.  .  .  .  His  soul 
was  made  up  of  harmony  ;  and  he  never 
spoke  but  he  charmed  his  hearer,  not 
only  with  the  clearness  of  his  reason,  but 
all  his  words,  and  his  very  tone  and  ca 
dences,  were  musical."  This  disclosure 
of  a  winning  temper  in  a  man  of  great 
genius  finds  its  explanation  in  part  in 
certain  comments  of  the  eloquent  preacher 
touching  what  he  calls  little  vexations  :  — 

"  .  .  .  be  careful  to  stifle  little  things,"  he  writes, 
"  that  as  fast  as  they  spring  they  be  cut  down 
and  trod  upon  ;  for  if  they  be  suffered  to  grow  by 
numbers,  they  make  the  spirit  perish,  and  the  society 
troublesome,  and  the  affections  loose  and  easy  by  an 
habitual  aversation.  Some  men  are  more  vexed  with 
a  fly  than  with  a  wound  ;  and  when  the  gnats  dis- 

102 


Dangerous  Foes 

turb  our  sleep,  and  the  reason  is  disquieted  but  not 
perfectly  awakened,  it  is  often  seen  that  he  is  fuller 
of  trouble  than  if,  in  the  daylight  of  his  reason,  he 
were  to  contest  with  a  potent  enemy.  In  the  fre 
quent  little  accidents  of  a  family  a  man's  reason  can 
not  always  be  awake ;  and,  when  the  discourses  are 
imperfect,  and  a  trifling  trouble  makes  him  yet  more 
restless,  he  is  soon  betrayed  to  the  violence  of  pas 
sion." 

This  goes  to  the  very  heart  of  the  un 
doing  of  fine  natures  by  small  discom 
forts,  petty  annoyances,  little  troubles. 
They  lose  serenity,  sweetness,  and  dignity 
because  they  fail  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  a  sting  may  be  as  dangerous  as  a 
wound,  and  that  the  trifle  which  costs  a 
man  his  self-respect  is  as  important,  so 
far  as  he  is  concerned,  as  the  great  pro 
vocation  which  throws  him  into  passion. 
Character  is  fundamental  in  all  re 
lations  ;  without  it  there  is  no  real, 
genuine,  effective  human  intercourse  or 
co-operation.  In  all  conditions  and  for 
all  purposes  it  is  essential  that  we  should 
be  able  to  trust  our  fellow  and  to  secure 
and  hold  his  confidence.  Next  to  char- 
103 


Works  and  Days 

acter  the  most  essential  qualities  for  com 
fort,  peace,  and  happiness  are  sweetness 
and  serenity  of  spirit.  These  qualities 
are  atmospheric  in  their  nature  ;  they  dif 
fuse  themselves  through  space;  they  make 
the  weather  in  which  we  live  ;  they  flood 
us  with  sunlight  or  blight  us  with  chill 
and  gloom.  Cheerfulness  and  sweetness 
are  commonly  regarded  as  temperamental. 
In  many  cases  they  are  the  natural  expres 
sions  of  harmonious  and  well-balanced 
natures.  But  they  are  quite  as  often  the 
"  lovely  result  of  forgotten  toil  "  ;  quali 
ties  which,  by  patience,  care,  and  per 
sistence,  have  been  developed  out  of  the 
most  unpromising  soil  by  refusal  to 
yield  to  the  tyranny  of  small  vexations 
and  the  wear  of  wearisome  details  which 
of  necessity  fill  a  large  place  in  every  life. 
These  petty  annoyances  crowd  every 
path  of  work  or  pleasure,  and  one  must 
elect  whether  he  will  brush  them  aside 
with  a  strong  hand  or  permit  them  to 
spring  up  and  choke  the  finer  growths 
in  his  soul.  The  irritable  man  is  some- 
104 


Dangerous  Foes 

thing  more  than  a  trial  to  the  men  who 
work  with  him  and  something  worse 
than  a  steady  discomfort ;  he  is  a  de 
pressor  of  vitality  and  therefore  a  waster 
of  power.  The  warm,  genial  air  does 
not  invite  delicate  things  out  of  the  soil 
more  potently  than  does  the  man  of 
serene,  sunny  nature  call  forth  the  best 
energies  of  his  co-workers.  When  such 
a  man  is  in  command,  no  time  need  be 
lost  in  attempts  to  make  working  ad 
justments  with  him ;  every  man  can  put 
his  whole  force  into  his  task.  The  irri 
table,  peevish  spirit  in  the  household, 
succumbing  to  every  petty  annoyance, 
is  absolutely  fatal  to  that  sweet  and 
deep  peace  in  which  alone  the  affections 
put  forth  all  their  tendrils  and  bear 
their  most  delicate  blossoms.  There  are 
women  about  whom  the  whole  world 
blooms ;  where  they  are  it  is  always 
June. 

There  is   something  pitiful  in  the  de 
feat  of  a  man  by  insignificant  foes.  When 
a  strong  nature   falls  before  a  powerful 
I05 


Works  and  Days 

antagonist,  there  is  the  sense  of  tragedy, 
but  there  may  be  no  sense  of  humiliation  ; 
but  when  a  sting  does  the  work  of  a 
wound,  there  comes  a  certain  feeling  of 
contempt.  In  the  battle  of  life,  which  is 
a  struggle,  not  only  for  integrity,  but  for 
sweetness,  serenity,  and  peace,  every  man 
owes  it  to  his  fellows  to  make  a  brave 
fight.  There  is  a  kind  of  treason  in  sur 
render  to  petty  foes.  There  are  so  many 
great  troubles  in  life,  so  many  appalling 
calamities,  so  many  heavy  burdens  to 
be  borne,  and  such  difficult  tasks  to  be 
performed,  that  it  is  cowardly  to  yield 
peace  and  sweetness  to  insignificant  as 
saults  on  patience  and  good  temper. 

We  are  bound,  not  only  to  resist  the 
things  that  imperil  our  integrity  and 
peace,  but  to  aid  and  succor  our  fellows. 
The  man  who  flies  into  a  passion  because 
some  small  thing  goes  wrong,  who  is 
peevish,  irritable,  and  disagreeable  when 
additional  work  comes  unexpectedly  or 
unforeseen  accidents  occur,  not  only 
makes  life  harder  for  every  one  about 
106 


Dangerous  Foes 

him,  but  makes  it  harder  at  the  very 
time  when  it  is  his  plain  duty  to  make 
it  easier.  The  moral  of  the  whole  mat 
ter  is  that  there  are  no  small  things  ;  that 
the  annoyance,  however  apparently  in 
significant,  which  costs  a  man  his  tem 
per,  is  really  important ;  and  that  we 
owe  our  fellows  the  duty  of  sweetness 
and  cheerfulness  quite  as  much  as  the 
duty  of  fidelity  and  honesty.  On  the 
eve  of  Agincourt,  the  quiet  hopefulness 
of  Henry  V.  was  worth  another  army  to 
the  decimated  English.  In  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  daily  struggle  of  men  in  the 
work  of  the  world,  the  cheerful  and 
sunny  are  bringers  of  strength  and  har 
bingers  of  victory. 


107 


INVITING  THE   BEST   THINGS 


house  which  has  been  deco- 
JL  rated  and  furnished  out  of  hand  by 
an  expert  holds  a  relation  to  its  owner 
very  different  from  that  which  is  held  by 
a  house  which  represents  his  individual 
taste  and  has  been  gradually  conformed 
in  color  and  form  to  his  individuality. 
The  house  which  the  expert  prepares  as 
a  matter  of  skill  is  often  very  beautiful, 
but  it  never  has  the  significance  pos 
sessed  by  the  house  which  discloses 
everywhere  the  touch  of  a  single  per 
sonality  slowly  evolving  an  outward 
harmony  in  response  to  an  inward 
craving  for  order  and  beauty.  It  is 
wise  to  have  beautiful  things  about  us, 
even  if  we  do  not  comprehend  or  enjoy 
them  ;  but  it  is  far  wiser  to  surround 
ourselves  with  harmonious  colors  and 
forms  because  we  cannot  rest  content  in 
any  kind  of  discord. 
108 


Inviting  the  Best  Things 

True  preparation  for  orderly,  beauti 
ful,  and  dignified  ways  of  living  must  be 
made  within  a  man ;  and  the  visible 
beauty  with  which  he  surrounds  himself 
ought  to  be  a  key  to  his  tastes.  There 
is  an  attractive  power  in  character  which 
we  rarely  understand,  but  which  is  the 
key  to  outward  prosperity  of  all  kinds. 
The  happenings  of  life  lie  in  wait  along 
the  highway  until  the  person  to  whom 
they  belong  by  natural  affiliation  appears, 
and  then  instantly  attach  themselves  to 
him.  To  the  passionate,  lawless,  and 
violent,  things  of  kindred  nature  are 
always  hastening  with  swift,  unerring 
feet.  For  him  who  takes  the  sword  the 
sword  is  always  in  readiness.  The  fates 
are  asleep  until  we  awaken  them ;  they 
never  come  unsought ;  they  await  our 
invitation,  and  are  powerless  until  we 
open  the  doors  to  them.  The  witches 
on  the  blasted  heath  predicting  greatness 
to  Macbeth  did  not  destroy  a  noble 
nature.  Banquo  heard  the  same  fateful 
words,  but  the  doors  of  his  spirit  were 
109 


Works  and  Days 

locked  and  bolted  by  loyalty  and  in 
tegrity,  and  over  him  the  spirits  of  evil 
had  no  power.  Macbeth  had  long  been 
making  ready  for  them,  and  their  words 
of  fate  fell  into  a  quick  soil.  All  his  life 
the  future  murderer  and  tyrant  had  been 
inviting  the  day  when,  in  the  storm  of 
battle,  his  own  life  should  be  extinguished 
as  mercilessly  as  he  had  put  out  the  light 
of  countless  other  lives. 

To  men  and  women  of  unbalanced 
ambitions,  unrestrained  passions,  un 
controlled  temper,  tragedy  is  always 
approaching.  They  are  marked  for 
disaster,  not  by  a  fate  outside  them 
selves,  but  by  the  very  structure  of 
their  own  nature.  Violence  is  sown  for 
the  violent  as  light  is  sown  for  the 
righteous;  in  the  end  every  man  faces 
himself  in  the  harvest  he  has  to  reap, 
and  no  man  reaps  what  he  has  not  sown. 

The  unselfish  and  loving,  who  serve 

and  wait,  are  often    astonished    by   the 

affection  and  devotion  they  evoke.    They 

cannot    understand    how   so    much    has 

no 


Inviting  the  Best  Things 

come  to  them  when  they  feel  so  keenly 
their  own  poverty  of  spirit  and  are  filled 
with  a  deep  and  genuine  self-dissatisfac 
tion.  They  are  always  sowing  the 
seeds  of  kindness,  but  when  their  ways 
blossom  with  all  manner  of  beautiful 
words  and  deeds,  they  do  not  recognize 
the  fruit  of  their  own  sweetness  and 
devotion.  They  are  always  inviting 
kindness,  affection,  and  trust,  and  these 
qualities  are  always  lying  in  wait  along 
their  paths  in  a  thousand  beautiful 
forms. 

If  one  longs  for  a  noble  and  har 
monious  life,  with  the  resources  of  taste, 
intelligence,  and  culture,  with  the  warmth 
which  comes  into  the  air  of  the  world 
from  troops  of  friends,  with  such  an 
external  ordering  of  life  in  estate,  house, 
furnishings,  and  social  order  as  shall 
express  a  high-minded  and  generous 
spirit,  let  him  prepare  his  own  character 
for  these  great  prosperities.  To  the 
man  of  harmonious  nature,  fine  taste, 
and  kindly  spirit,  the  things  which  give 
in 


Works  and  Days 

external  life  order,  beauty,  and  dignity 
are  always  coming.  If  one  sets  out  to 
acquire  these  things  and  add  them  to 
himself,  they  generally  evade  and  escape 
him  ;  they  are  not  waiting  for  him;  and 
when  he  comes  they  do  not  know  him. 
But  let  him  be  in  his  own  spirit  what  he 
desires  to  express  in  his  belongings,  and 
all  these  things  shall  be  added  to  him  ; 
they  belong  to  him,  and,  as  a  rule,  they 
are  waiting  for  him. 


112 


THE   GRACE   OF   GOODNESS 

THERE  is  a  tact  of  the  spirit  which, 
by  a  deep  instinct,  divines  that 
which  will  hurt  and  that  which  will  heal 
in  human  intercourse.  This  is  the  fine 
grace  of  those  saints  who  stay  in  the 
world  without  a  touch  of  worldliness, 
who  live  with  as  much  purity  as  the 
strictest  ascetic,  but  who  shed  the  radi 
ance  of  their  devotion  along  the  highway 
of  life  instead  of  prisoning  it  in  a  cell ; 
who  have  many  interests  but  never  waste 
or  dissipate  spiritual  energy ;  and  who 
make  men  aware  of  the  reality  of  the 
highest  ideals  without  so  much  as  hint 
ing  that  they  exist. 

Honesty  is  one  of  the  foundation 
stones  of  character,  but  honor  is  finer 
than  honesty,  because  it  transforms  hon 
esty  into  a  spiritual  quality  by  lifting 
it  above  all  considerations  of  policy  or 
advantage.  A  man  may  be  honest  and 

8  113 


yet  grasping  and  small ;  but  the  man 
who  has  a  delicate  sense  of  honor  adds 
to  integrity  the  grace  of  unselfishness. 
Goodness  is  always  admirable,  but  there 
are  degrees  of  goodness,  as  there  are 
degrees  of  culture.  It  is  a  great  deal, 
amid  the  manifold  temptations  of  life, 
to  find  the  immovable  foundations  and 
build  upon  them ;  but  all  builders  do 
not  have  the  same  feeling  for  harmony 
of  mass  and  line,  for  sound  and  beautiful 
construction.  Ugly  houses  are  some 
times  reared  on  foundations  massive 
enough  to  support  a  palace  or  a  cathedral. 
The  flowers  and  fragrance  of  goodness 
are  often  lacking  in  those  who  possess  its 
roots.  They  are  honest,  truthful,  faith 
ful  to  all  trusts  and  duties;  but  they  do 
not  diffuse  the  sweetness  of  faith  in  the 
very  best  things  ;  they  are  not  enveloped 
in  the  atmosphere  which  evokes  from 
others  all  the  finer  qualities  and  rein 
forces  all  their  higher  convictions. 

The  good   are    not   always  winning ; 
they  do  not  always  commend  the  influ- 
114 


The  Grace  of  Goodness 

ences  that  shape  them  by  their  manifesta 
tion  of  those  influences.  They  command 
confidence,  but  they  do  not  make  con 
verts.  Such  men  and  women  do  much 
of  the  necessary  work  of  the  world ;  they 
carry  its  burdens  with  silent  heroism ; 
they  are  often  of  the  stuff  of  which  saints 
are  made,  but  they  have  not  attained 
sainthood.  They  lack  the  higher  har 
mony  which  comes  to  those  who  so  com 
pletely  forget  themselves  that  the  whole 
nature  silently  conforms  itself  to  the  will 
of  God. 

The  gentleness  and  tenderness  of 
Christ  were  expressed  in  a  consideration 
for  others,  based  on  a  perception  of  their 
needs,  sorrows,  and  imperfections,  which 
makes  him  the  first  gentleman  in  the 
world  as  well  as  its  most  radical  reformer. 
Appointed  to  do  the  most  destructive 
work  as  a  means  of  reorganizing  society 
on  a  truer  foundation,  he  carried  on  his 
warfare  with  weapons  which  healed  as 
they  smote ;  hating  the  sin  of  the  world 
with  all  the  intensity  of  a  sinless  nature, 
"5 


Works  and  Days 

he,  above  all  men  whose  words  and  deeds 
have  been  recorded,  loved  more  than  he 
condemned  and  saved  in  the  exact  meas 
ure  in  which  he  destroyed. 

This  spiritual  sensitiveness  to  the 
needs  of  others  breeds  the  divine  tact 
which  makes  the  touch  of  the  uncanon- 
ized  saints  so  gentle  and  healing.  They 
move  among  the  sick,  the  weary,  the 
sinful,  with  a  quiet  helpfulness  which  is 
a  kind  of  health  in  itself.  Instead  of 
breaking  and  bruising,  they  bind  up  and 
heal.  A  deep  compassion  flows  from 
them  and  envelops  in  an  atmosphere  of 
sympathy  those  whom  they  would  help. 
They  refresh  us  before  we  understand 
how  weary  we  are ;  they  make  us  aware 
of  our  shortcomings  in  our  innermost 
hearts  and  ashamed  in  our  very  souls 
without  so  much  as  intimating  that  they 
see  any  fault  in  us. 

Many  men  and  women,  with  the  best 

intentions  in  the   world,    go   blundering 

through  life,  hurting  where  they  would 

heal  and  giving  pain  where  they  would 

116 


The  Grace  of  Goodness 

bring  peace,  simply  from  dulness  of  spir 
itual  perception.  The  pathetic  prayer 
which  Mr.  Sill  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
the  Fool,  and  which  sinks  into  the  heart 
of  the  King,  ought  to  be  oftener  on  our 
lips : 

"  The  ill-timed  truth  we  might  have  kept  — 

Who  knows  how  sharp  it  pierced  and  stung  ? 
The  word  we  had  not  sense  to  say  — 
Who  knows  how  grandly  it  had  rung  ? 

"  Our  faults  no  tenderness  should  ask, 

The  chastening  stripes  must  cleanse  them  all  ; 
But  for  our  blunders  —  oh,  in  shame 
Before  the  eyes  of  heaven  we  fall  !  " 

The  blunders  of  the  good  are  some 
times  more  difficult  to  repair  than  evil 
deeds ;  and  they  are  few  against  whom 
these  lost  or  ill-used  opportunities  can 
not  be  charged. 

Most  of  us  are  in  the  rudimentary 
stages  of  spiritual  growth ;  we  lack  the 
sensitiveness  of  spirit  which  makes  the 
saints  ministering  angels  ;  we  are  shut 


Works  and  Days 

out,  by  our  lack  of  insight,  from  that 
finer  service  which  is  possible  only  to 
those  who  look  into  the  hearts  of  their 
fellows,  and  through  this  knowledge  turn 
their  love  into  a  healing  wisdom. 


nS 


PERSONAL  DEFLECTION 

A  LITTLE  collection  of  aphorisms, 
recently  printed  but  not  published, 
contains,  among  other  pieces  of  practical 
wisdom  and  spiritual  insight,  this  bit  of 
advice :  "  Protect  your  compass  from 
personal  deflection."  The  protection  of 
the  compass  so  as  to  preserve  the  navi 
gator  from  the  consequences  of  deflection 
is  a  matter  of  prime  importance.  So 
much  study  has  been  devoted  to  this 
end  that  the  caring  for  the  compass  has 
become  a  matter  of  science.  A  great 
many  people  do  not  understand  that  the 
compass  which  every  man  carries  in  his 
own  mind  is  in  danger  of  constant  shift- 
ings  from  the  pole  by  reason  of  his  own 
temperament,  habits,  and  personal  expe 
rience.  The  judgment  of  a  great  many 
people  is  constantly  vitiated  by  the  fact 
that  it  is  based  largely,  not  on  a  broad 
observation  of  facts,  but  on  personal 
119 


Works  and  Days 

feelings,  and  on  the  reactionary  effects 
of  personal  experience.  Half  the  pes 
simism  to  which  men  give  expression  in 
terms  of  general  condemnation  of  things 
as  they  are  arises  from  personal  failure 
or  disappointment.  The  man  who  has 
failed  in  his  own  enterprises  is  always  in 
danger  of  finding  the  reason  for  his 
failure,  not  in  himself,  but  in  condi 
tions,  and  in  arriving  at  wholly  false  con 
clusions  in  regard  to  those  conditions. 
Nothing  is  so  difficult  as  to  keep  one's 
self  in  perfectly  sane  and  real  relations  to 
one's  work,  one's  fellows,  and  to  the  spir 
itual  environment  of  life.  There  are 
very  few  whose  days  are  not  often  cloud 
ed  ;  who  are  not  hampered  in  working 
out  their  ideas  by  defects  in  their  own 
temper  and  by  the  limitations  of  their 
own  minds ;  but  no  man  can  see  clearly 
and  judge  wisely  who  does  not  know 
these  things  and  take  them  into  account. 
When  a  wise  man  finds  himself  in  a  mood 
of  depression,  he  may  not  be  able  at  the 
instant  to  throw  it  off,  but  he  refuses  to 


Personal  Deflection 

come  to  decisions  while  he  is  under  its 
spell,  because  he  knows  that  his  judgment 
is,  for  the  time  being,  vitiated.  There 
are  a  great  many  days  when  a  wise  man 
refuses  to  act,  because  he  knows  that  his 
compass  is  deflected. 

Perhaps  the  first  element  of  success, 
in  the  largest  sense  of  the  word,  is  to  be 
able  to  put  ourselves  out  of  account  in 
reaching  general  conclusions  and  taking 
final  positions.  Because  a  man  is  sick,  it 
does  not  follow  that  all  society  is  out  of 
joint;  because  a  man  fails,  it  does  not 
mean  that  the  industrial  system  is  wrongly 
organized ;  because  a  man  does  not  attain 
his  personal  ambition,  it  does  not  mean 
that  he  is  in  a  heartless  world  surrounded 
by  those  who  will  not  recognize  ability 
and  character.  When  a  man  begins  to 
feel  a  sense  of  personal  injury,  it  is  time 
for  him  to  take  account  of  his  own  state 
of  mind,  and  to  ask  whether  he  is  not 
out  of  true  relations  to  his  fellows  by 
reason  of  his  own  attitude.  Against  the 
impression  which  the  moment  gives,  as 

121 


Works  and  Days 

Emerson  suggested,  must  be  put  the 
impression  which  comes  from  the  year 
and  the  century ;  the  detail  must  be 
viewed  in  the  light  of  the  completed 
whole.  Individual  disaster  must  be 
constantly  looked  at  in  relation  to  the  gen 
eral  order  of  things;  and  one  of  the  finest 
achievements  of  an  honest  man  is  to  be 
able  to  disentangle  himself  from  the 
bitterness  of  defeat  or  the  anguish  of 
sorrow,  and  look  at  the  world  in  an  im 
personal  and  objective  spirit.  A  good 
many  pious  and  wise  men  of  the  mystical 
temper  have  sought  clearness  of  vision 
by  withdrawing  themselves  from  human 
relationships  and  the  entanglements  of 
practical  affairs ;  but  the  finest  vision  is 
that  which  a  man  secures  when,  in  the 
midst  of  relationships  and  affairs,  he  is 
able  to  look  at  the  great  whole  of  life  as 
if  he  were  standing  apart  from  it,  and 
there  were  no  bitter  pressure  from  its 
impact  on  his  own  fortunes  or  his  indi 
vidual  happiness. 


122 


THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  SUCCESS 

IT  is  a  traditional  feeling  that  the  dis 
cipline  of  life  comes  only  from  things 
which  are  hard  and  disagreeable ;  the 
things  which  give  pleasure  are  commonly 
regarded  by  those  who  are  unthoughtful 
as  devoid  of  self-denial  and  self-surrender. 
In  like  manner,  and  with  kindred  short 
ness  of  sight,  we  interpret  as  providential 
those  happenings  which  manifestly  for 
ward  our  interests  and  plans,  oblivious 
of  the  oft-taught  lesson  of  history  that 
apparent  prosperities  are  often  adversities 
of  the  most  searching  kind,  and  that  what 
seems  at  the  moment  to  be  the  worst  pos 
sible  fortune  turns  to  gold  in  the  unfold 
ing  of  its  hidden  potency.  And  in  like 
manner  also,  we  are  moved  to  expression 
of  gratitude  to  God  when  fields  have 
been  white  and  granaries  are  full,  while 
our  thanksgiving  shrinks  into  the  narrow- 
123 


Works  and  Days 

est  and  shallowest  rivulet  of  praise  when 
material  conditions  are  adverse,  even 
though  they  are  actively  making  for  the 
richest  growth  of  the  spirit.  To  those 
who  put  themselves  in  the  way  of  divine 
guidance  adversity  is  as  truly  blessed  as 
prosperity,  and  narrowness  of  means  for 
wards  the  highest  interests  as  definitely 
as  opulence. 

The  discipline  of  adversity  has  been  so 
constantly  studied  and  commented  upon 
by  the  moralists  of  every  age  that  all  the 
world  recognizes  it  as  a  reality,  whether 
it  profits  by  its  knowledge  or  not ;  but  the 
disciplinary  side  of  success  often  escapes 
observation.  In  the  golden  light  which 
surrounds  an  obviously  prosperous  career 
harsh  outlines  are  so  softened  that  they 
often  fade  out  altogether.  But  the  suc 
cessful  man,  if  he  has  any  clear  self-knowl 
edge,  knows  that  he  is  being  relentlessly 
tested,  and  that  the  sternest  adversity 
could  not  more  searchingly  reveal  the 
quality  of  his  character.  The  struggles 
of  success  are  forgotten  in  the  opportuni- 
124 


The  Discipline  of  Success 

ties,  the  comfort,  and  the  applause  which 
come  with  it ;  but  no  successful  man 
escapes  its  temptations.  Every  man  of 
insight  knows  that  good  fortune,  if  it  is 
his,  is  to  be  found,  not  in  his  prosperity, 
but  in  the  spirit  in  which  he  meets  and 
bears  it.  To  keep  the  moral  fibre  firm, 
the  head  clear,  the  heart  warm,  the  tastes 
simple,  when  the  spirit  is  assailed  on  all 
sides  by  temptations  to  ease,  to  com 
placency,  to  selfishness,  to  luxury,  in 
volves  a  moral  struggle  which  is  not  less 
severe  because  it  is  fought  out  under 
comfortable  conditions.  The  tests  of 
success  are  more  searching  than  those 
of  adversity  because  the  temptations  of 
prosperity  are  more  subtle  and  insidious 
than  those  of  adversity.  The  unsuccess 
ful  man  sees  the  foes  he  is  fighting ;  they 
are  in  the  open  field,  and  he  can  hardly 
fail  to  take  their  measure.  The  success 
ful  man  is  assailed  by  foes  which  take 
advantage  of  his  ease  to  attack  when  his 
guard  is  lowered. 

It  was  said  of  a  man  of  great  wealth, 
125 


Works  and  Days 

who  was  stricken  down  in  his  early  prime, 
that  he  had  died  in  a  heroic  effort  to 
administer  a  hundred  million  dollars  con 
scientiously.  People  at  large,  when  they 
thought  of  him,  thought  chiefly  of  the 
almost  unlimited  opportunities  of  enjoy 
ment  which  immense  wealth  offered  him  ; 
he  thought  chiefly  of  the  great  responsi 
bilities  which  it  imposed  upon  him.  To 
the  world  his  colossal  prosperity  was  the 
symbol  of  pleasure  ;  to  him  it  was  a  stern 
discipline,  under  the  pressure  of  which 
his  character  took  on  the  firmness  and 
vigor  of  a  moral  athlete,  but  his  body 
sank  under  the  burden.  To  the  thought 
less,  wealth  stands  for  ease  and  pleasure ; 
but  the  vast  majority  of  those  who  possess 
it  find  it  full  of  work  and  care.  And  this 
is  true  of  every  kind  of  success  ;  the 
world  sees  its  splendor,  its  apparent  ease, 
or  its  opportunities  of  enjoying  the  pleas 
ures  of  influence,  affluence,  and  reputa 
tion  ;  the  man  who  possesses  it  feels 
chiefly  its  responsibilities  and  thinks 
chiefly  of  the  work  it  imposes  upon  him. 
126 


The  Discipline  of  Success 

For  the  successful  men  are  the  heroic 
toilers  of  our  time ;  for  them  all  fixed 
working  hours  are  abolished ;  life  is  one 
great  hour  of  toil.  To  a  man  like  Mr. 
Gladstone  work  is  not  a  matter  of  times 
and  seasons  ;  it  is  the  absorbing  necessity 
of  a  lifetime.  He  may  not  be  indifferent 
to  the  satisfaction  which  fame  carries  in 
its  hands  ;  but  he  is  occupied  habitually 
with  the  colossal  work  which  his  position 
brings  with  it.  And  this  is  true  of  all 
men  who  are  really  successful ;  for  suc 
cess  lies  within  a  man,  no  matter  how 
prosperous  his  conditions  may  be ;  and 
he  only  can  be  held  successful  who  re 
ceives  with  an  open  mind  and  a  willing 
spirit  the  discipline  which  prosperity 
brings  as  relentlessly  as  adversity. 


127 


THE  BEST  PREPARATION 


best  preparation  for  the  future 
JL  does  not  consist  in  thinking  about 
it,  nor  primarily  in  planning  for  it,  but 
in  doing  the  work  of  the  day  with  the 
largest  intelligence  and  the  keenest  con 
science.  The  schoolboy  is  not  prepared 
for  the  tasks  and  responsibilities  of  man 
hood  by  continually  dwelling  on  the 
things  he  will  do  when  he  becomes  a 
man  ;  it  is  well  that  he  should  think  very 
little  about  them,  and  that  the  emphasis 
of  his  thought  should  rest  on  the  work, 
the  play,  and  the  pleasure  of  the  moment. 
He  will  have  his  dreams,  as  every  boy 
of  intelligence  has  them,  and  the  future 
will  beckon  him  on  with  a  thousand  in 
visible  signs  and  a  thousand  inaudible 
voices,  to  which  his  heart  and  imagina 
tion  will  continually  respond  :  but  it  is 
not  the  future  on  which  his  mind  ought 
128 


The  Best  Preparation 

to  dwell ;  it  is  the  present.  He  who 
thinks  wisely  of  the  present  and  does 
well  with  the  present  thinks  most  wisely 
and  does  best  with  the  future ;  for  the 
future  is  but  the  unfolding  of  the  pres 
ent.  The  wise  farmer  spends  very  little 
time  in  meditating  on  his  harvest  at  the 
time  of  seed-sowing  ;  his  whole  concern 
is  to  get  the  seed  under  the  ground  under 
the  best  possible  conditions,  and  to  give 
it  the  best  possible  care.  So  far  as  he 
can  control  it,  the  future  is  involved  in 
every  day's  work. 

This  is  true  in  every  relation  of  life. 
Work  and  action  ought  to  be  planned 
so  far  as  either  lies  within  the  control 
of  the  planner ;  every  life  ought  to  be 
dominated  by  a  general  aim  ;  every  one 
ought  to  be  working  for  some  ultimate 
purpose ;  but  the  ultimate  purpose  is 
accomplished  and  the  remotest  goal 
reached,  not  by  continually  meditating 
upon  them,  but  by  getting  the  vantage- 
ground  which  comes  when  each  day  re 
ceives  the  deposit  of  all  that  a  man  can 

9  129 


Works  and  Days 

give  out  of  his  conscience,  his  intelligence, 
and  his  character,  and  every  year  sums 
up  the  entire  capacity  of  his  nature  in 
what  has  been  done.  They  are  right 
who  insist  that  we  ought  to  cultivate  the 
expectation  of  good  fortune  and  to  put 
out  of  our  minds  the  apprehension  of 
calamity ;  for  we  best  prepare  ourselves 
for  misfortune  by  the  serenity  and  poise 
of  mind  which  anticipates  and  demands 
the  best  from  life.  Strength  comes,  not 
from  building  shelters  for  one's  self 
against  possible  disasters,  but  from  living 
bravely  and  freely  as  if  there  were  no 
enemy  in  sight.  The  man  who  is  always 
skulking  across  the  field  seeking  some 
form  of  shelter  is  quite  as  likely  to  fall 
as  the  man  who  bravely  faces  the  fire 
from  the  most  commanding  position. 
One  man  shapes  his  life  by  fear,  and  the 
other  by  courage ;  neither  is  secure,  be 
cause  in  one  sense  there  is  no  security  in 
life,  danger  being  always  present;  but 
courage  is  far  more  safe  than  cowardice. 
The  best  preparation  for  the  future, 
130 


The  Best  Preparation 

whether  for  work,  calamity,  trial,  or  task, 
is  to  do  thoroughly,  bravely,  and  cheer 
fully  those  things  which  fall  to  our  hand 
day  by  day.  It  is  after  this  fashion  that 
the  greatest  works  are  accomplished ;  it 
is  by  this  method  that  the  finest  charac 
ters  are  formed ;  it  is  in  this  way  that  the 
wisest  train  themselves  for  life.  He  who 
gives  himself  up  to  thoughts  of  heaven 
and  anticipations  of  happiness  denies 
himself  that  preparation  for  heaven  which 
comes  by  accepting  the  education  of  life, 
and  which  is  the  only  sure  promise  of 
the  possession  of  heaven.  We  must 
create  heaven  within  ourselves  before  we 
claim  it  as  a  condition. 


FAITH-INSPIRERS 

IT  is  the  advance,  whether  by  the 
movement  of  a  whole  army  or  the 
swift  charge  of  a  brigade,  which  carries 
the  field  and  plucks  the  flower  of  victory. 
Prudence  preserves  that  which  is  already 
secured ;  faith,  courage,  and  enthusiasm 
make  new  conquests.  There  is  immense 
force  in  mere  momentum.  An  army 
like  Alexander's  derives  its  strength,  not 
from  fortified  places  left  in  the  rear,  nor 
from  intrenched  camps,  but  from  the 
very  swiftness  of  its  movement.  Like 
an  avalanche  it  multiplies  itself  as  it  de 
scends.  It  is  a  notable  fact  that  all  great 
leaders  have  been  great  faith-inspirers. 
They  have  made  men  believe  in  their 
genius  and  their  fortune,  and  have  di 
vided  with  a  multitude  the  precious  gift 
of  enthusiasm  which,  like  a  star,  has  led 
them  on.  Alexander  inspired  implicit 
faith,  not  only  in  himself,  but  in  the  men 
132 


Faith-Inspirers 

who  were  under  him.  They  came  to  re 
gard  themselves  as  invincible,  and  this 
belief  was  one  secret  of  their  sustained 
success.  When  men  profoundly  believe 
that  they  are  to  succeed,  success  is  already 
won.  It  is  the  positive  men  who  ac 
complish  great  things  ;  the  negative  men 
conserve,  but  they  do  not  enlarge  the 
borders  of  knowledge  or  of  achievement. 
In  science,  literature,  and  business  they 
keep  that  which  has  been  already  won, 
but  no  new  beauty,  no  new  ideal,  no  new 
prosperity  ever  comes  from  their  hands. 
The  great  hopes  of  the  world  spring 
from  the  hearts  of  those  who  believe, 
and  who  set  themselves  to  act  with  the 
positive  forces  of  society.  The  great 
est  service  which  any  man  can  render 
to  his  fellows  is  to  inspire  them  with  faith 
in  themselves,  to  make  them  believe  that 
they  are  capable  of  the  highest  things,  to 
fill  them  continually  with  that  deep  con 
fidence  which  springs,  not  from  over 
estimate  of  self,  but  from  a  resolute  hold 
upon  fundamental  principles,  an  uncon- 


Works  and  Days 

querable  faith  in  noble  and  worthy  causes. 
There  are  few  things  impossible  to  those 
who  believe ;  but  most  men  are  so  sur 
rounded  by  limitations,  so  beset  by 
doubts,  that  they  distrust  their  own 
powers  and  disbelieve  the  dreams  of  their 
hearts.  Every  man  who  has  not  utterly 
wrecked  himself  knows  that  he  was  born 
for  the  best  things.  This  is  the  hope 
which  life  continually  sets  before  him  ; 
this  is  the  presence  of  God  forever  re 
vealing  itself  in  him.  To  hear  this  inner 
voice  and  follow  it ;  to  make  aspiration 
not  a  dream  which  lies  like  a  sunset  light 
on  the  horizon,  but  a  quenchless  star 
which  burns  forever  before  one's  con 
fident  feet,  is  to  put  one's  self  in  the  line 
of  the  noblest  success.  There  are  men 
and  women  whose  whole  atmosphere  is 
critical,  skeptical,  and  depressing  ;  there 
are  others  out  of  whom  confidence  is 
breathed,  and  from  whom  strength  goes 
forth  unconsciously  to  themselves.  They 
always  appeal  to  that  which  is  noblest  in 
their  fellows  ;  they  always  inspire  their 


Faith-Inspirers 

fellows  with  new  hope  and  fresh  courage. 
There  is  no  joy  in  life  greater  than  to  be 
one  of  these  faith-inspirers,  to  have  this 
sublime  health  of  spirit  which  makes  the 
very  hem  of  one's  garment  healing,  and 
diffuses  courage,  hope,  and  faith  like  an 
atmosphere. 


THE  TEST  OF  OPPORTUNITY 

THE  incident  of  the  boatload  of 
shipwrecked  men,  dying  of  thirst, 
who  accidentally  dropped  a  bucket  into 
what  they  supposed  to  be  the  sea,  and 
found  they  were  sailing  in  the  fresh  water 
of  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon,  has  been 
used  until  it  is  threadbare ;  but  it  is, 
nevertheless,  a  capital  illustration  of  what 
is  happening  this  very  hour  to  a  multi 
tude  of  men  and  women.  There  are  a 
host  of  people  who  suppose  themselves 
to  be  eager  to  find  their  work  in  life  and 
longing  for  an  opportunity,  who  are  sur 
rounded  by  work  and  opportunity  which 
they  fail  to  recognize.  The  real  differ 
ence  between  men  is  not  in  their  chances, 
but  in  their  ability  to  recognize  their 
chances.  Opportunities  are  universal. 
They  come  in  one  form  or  another  to 
every  human  being.  It  is  safe  to  say 
136 


The  Test  of  Opportunity 

that  no  man  lives  whose  hand  at  some 
time  has  not  been  at  the  door  of  a  gen 
uine  opportunity,  if  he  had  only  raised 
his  eyes  and  discovered  that  his  hand  was 
no  longer  resting  on  an  unbroken  wall. 
The  trouble  is  that  we  do  not  see.  We 
are  so  intent  upon  having  things  come  to 
us  after  some  manner  which  we  have  de 
termined  upon  in  our  own  minds,  that 
when  they  come  to  us  in  some  other  guise 
we  let  them  pass  unnoticed.  The  com 
mon  opportunity  comes,  as  the  divinest 
opportunity  in  the  whole  history  of  the 
world  came,  cradled  in  obscurity. 

Opportunities  wear  the  humblest 
dress  ;  they  hide  themselves  behind  the 
simplest  disguises ;  there  is  nothing  in 
them  that  arouses  our  interest  or  awakens 
our  suspicion ;  for  the  most  part  we  pass 
them  by  as  the  most  commonplace  things 
in  our  environment.  This  is  the  subtle 
and  dangerous  test  which  they  apply  to 
us.  If  they  came  with  their  value  dis 
closed  by  the  splendor  of  their  attire, 
there  would  be  no  test  of  character  in  the 


Works  and  Days 

manner  in  which  we  met  them.  Every 
man  treats  a  king  handsomely  ;  it  is  only 
the  gentleman  who  is  courteous  to  the 
beggar.  Opportunities  come  in  such 
fashion  that  our  reception  of  them  deter 
mines  our  fitness  to  use  them.  The  man 
or  woman  of  true  wisdom  knows  that 
there  is  nothing  in  this  world  which  has 
not  noble  possibilities  in  it,  and  that  ap 
pearances  count  for  nothing  when  quality 
is  concerned.  It  is  not  by  accident,  there 
fore,  that  some  men  succeed  and  others 
fail ;  that  some  men  seem  to  be  passing 
steadily  upward  and  others  remain  hope 
lessly  stationary.  The  men  who  succeed 
are  open-minded ;  they  are  alert  to  dis 
cover  the  true  value  of  things ;  they  do 
not  estimate  the  importance  of  events 
by  their  appearances  ;  they  take  every 
thing  at  its  best  and  use  it  for  its  highest. 
So  there  lies  at  the  bottom  of  every  right 
use  of  opportunities  a  noble  quality  of 
character  —  that  quality  which  takes  life 
as  a  divine  thing,  full  of  noble  chances 
of  growth  and  progress.  No  one  will 
138 


The  Test  of  Opportunity 

read  these  words,  however  obscure  or 
remote  from  the  great  centres  of  human 
activity,  about  whom  there  are  not  doors 
ready  to  be  opened  into  a  wider  useful 
ness  and  a  nobler  life.  What  we  need 
is,  not  a  new  chance,  but  clearness  of 
vision  to  discern  the  chance  which  at  this 
very  hour  is  ours,  if  we  recognize  it. 


THE   STERILITY  OF   REST 
LESSNESS 

THE  wide-felt  need  of  calmness  of 
nerves  and  mind  is  expressed 
in  many  ways  in  these  days.  Some 
of  these  ways  are  sane  and  wise ;  some 
of  them  are  unwholesome  and  mis 
leading  ;  but  whether  wise  or  foolish, 
they  are  alike  significant  of  the  con 
sciousness  of  the  lack  of  something 
which  is  necessary  for  the  truest  growth 
and  fruitfulness.  The.  world  is  full  of 
restless  men  and  women,  who  are  vainly 
seeking  in  some  place  or  philosophy  or 
person  that  repose  which  can  come  only 
from  inward  peace.  The  ends  of  the 
earth  are  searched  for  that  which  lies 
close  at  hand,  and  distant  and  alien 
religions  are  invoked  to  bestow  that 
which  the  seeker  can  find  only  in  his 
own  spirit.  This  restlessness  is  often 
140 


The  Sterility  of  Restlessness 

confused  by  its  victims  with  intellectual 
and  spiritual  energy,  and  the  mere  agita 
tion  of  a  wasted  nervous  force  is  mis 
taken  for  a  genuine  activity  of  the  soul. 
An  immense  amount  of  vitality  is  ex 
pended  in  simply  changing  localities 
without  changing  the  spirit.  The  mul 
titude  of  invalids  and  semi-invalids  who 
are  seeking  health  in  remote  climates  is 
matched  by  another  multitude  who  are 
seeking  peace  and  repose  by  getting 
into  the  atmosphere  of  other  faiths  and 
traditions. 

As  there  are  world-travellers  hurrying 
across  every  sea  and  rushing  from  point 
to  point  on  every  continent,  so  there  are 
soul-travellers  who  are  never  at  rest,  but 
are  constantly  hurrying  from  philosophy 
to  religion  and  from  religion  back  to 
philosophy.  And  so  there  has  grown 
up  a  kind  of  polyglot  knowledge  which 
is  not  and  cannot  become  culture  ;  and 
a  polyglot  religion  in  which  there  is 
neither  the  power  of  personal  experience 
nor  the  peace  which  flows  from  individ- 
141 


Works  and  Days 

ual  conviction.  It  is  not  by  searching 
the  earth  with  tireless  feet  that  men 
come  to  know  their  own  natures,  nor 
by  worshipping  at  many  shrines  that  they 
enter  into  that  peace  which  passes 
knowledge.  Restlessness  is  always  the 
sign  of  a  life  unfulfilled  and  a  soul  un 
satisfied  ;  it  is  a  conclusive  evidence  that 
one  has  not  come  into  that  harmonious 
relation  with  himself  and  the  world 
which  is  the  first  step  towards  real 
growth.  Agitation  often  accompanies 
a  deep  experience,  but  when  the  lesson 
of  the  experience  has  been  learned  the 
agitation  gives  place  to  peace.  The 
first  contact  with  a  new  field  of  work  or 
of  knowledge  often  moves  the  spirit 
profoundly ;  but  when  one  has  taken 
possession  of  the  field,  or  put  his  hand 
resolutely  to  the  work,  calmness  comes. 
For  it  is  only  in  peace  and  repose  that 
truth  reveals  its  deeper  aspects,  the  spirit 
comes  to  self-knowledge,  and  real  growth 
begins.  We  do  not  begin  to  grow  in 
power  and  wisdom  until  we  strike  deep 
142 


The  Sterility  of  Restlessness 

roots  into  the  soil ;  and  he  who  is  always 
travelling  gets  no  rootage.  In  the  old 
German  student  life  the  year  of  wander 
ing  had  its  recognized  place  as  an  invalu 
able  part  of  education ;  but  it  was  an 
experience  of  preparation,  not  a  continu 
ing  habit.  It  was  the  path  by  which  the 
learner  came  at  last  to  his  home  ;  for  it 
is  only  in  a  true  home  that  the  soul 
lives  its  normal  life. 


'43 


SOMETHING   TO   BE 
CULTIVATED 

THERE  are  few  qualities  which  lie 
so  directly  within  the  reach  of 
every  man  and  woman,  because  so  im 
mediately  the  result  of  education,  as 
self-control ;  and  yet  there  are  few  quali 
ties  which  are  so  generally  lacking. 
Everybody  has  a  certain  amount  of  self- 
control,  but  there  are  many  people  who 
compensate  themselves  for  the  repression 
of  their  energies  on  one  side  by  giving 
them  full  play  on  another.  Self-control 
means  the  entire  mastery  of  one's  nature ; 
means  always  having  in  hand  all  one's 
powers  ;  means  sitting  on  the  box  and 
driving,  instead  of  being  driven.  The 
absence  of  self-control  is  seen  in  many 
small  ways  :  in  the  unconscious  raising 
of  the  tones  of  voice  in  earnest  talking, 
in  purely  nervous  gesticulation  and  rest- 
144 


Something  to  be  Cultivated 

lessness  ;  in  the  inability  to  drop  a  sub 
ject  when  we  have  gotten  through  with 
it;  in  irritability,  and  that  subdued 
violence,  shown,  not  in  outbursts  of 
temper,  but  in  little  gusts  of  passion, 
escaping  here  and  there.  These  are  all 
small  things  in  themselves,  but  many 
of  them  are  exceedingly  irritating  and 
disagreeable,  and  they  all  involve  a  loss 
of  nervous  force.  The  heightened  tone 
of  the  voice,  the  incessant  gesticulation, 
the  physical  restlessness,  are  not  only 
unpleasant,  but  they  involve  needless 
expenditure  of  a  force  of  which  few  of 
us  possess  a  superabundance.  Complete 
self-control  is  one  of  the  fundamental 
qualities  in  any  large  and  high  success ; 
for  complete  self-control  means  that  one 
has  one's  self  completely  in  hand,  and 
is  able  to  address  one's  self  entirely  to 
whatever  is  necessary  to  be  done  at  the 
moment.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  infer 
power  from  any  kind  of  violence  or  rest 
lessness  ;  true  power  is  allied  with  com 
posure,  with  calmness,  with  self-restraint ; 

10  145 


Works  and  Days 

and  real  power  is  manifested  in  restraint 
and  composure,  and  not  in  violence  of 
speech  or  action.  A  man  of  nervous 
organization  recently  said  that  he  had 
gained  immense  benefit  by  simply  watch 
ing  the  modulations  of  his  voice,  and 
persistently  resisting  the  inclination  to 
run  into  high  tones.  He  had  found  not 
only  relief  for  the  vocal  chords,  but  a 
steadiness  and  calmness  of  thought  and 
feeling  which  made  him  conscious  of  the 
great  blunder  of  wasting  nervous  strength 
by  suffering  the  vocal  chords  to  sympa 
thize  with  an  excited  condition  rather 
than  keeping  them  under  steady  control. 
This  is  one  illustration  of  the  possibility 
of  overcoming  the  common  forms  of 
nervousness.  To  "  let  one's  self  go  "  is 
not  only  to  lose  force  at  a  particular 
point,  but  to  invite  a  reaction  along  the 
whole  line  of  physical  expression,  and 
so  to  continually  stir  up  and  agitate, 
instead  of  continually  restraining  and 
calming.  Many  people  lay  these  minor 
faults  on  the  shoulders  of  a  nervous 
146 


Something  to  be  Cultivated 

temperament,  and  do  not  know  that  a 
nervous  temperament,  under  control,  is 
a  tremendous  force,  and  as  susceptible 
of  being  governed  by  the  will  as  the 
grosser  appetites  or  passions. 


THE  TRIUMPHANT  LIFE 

THERE  is  nothing  more  inspiring 
than  the  story  of  a  triumphant 
life  which  overcomes  great  difficulties, 
works  itself  clear  of  sharp  limitations, 
and  issues  at  last  in  a  large,  free  activity. 
It  is  an  old  story,  but  it  remains  the  one 
story  of  which  men  never  tire,  and  which 
seems  to  assuage  a  thirst  of  the  soul. 
For  the  end  of  life  is  freedom  and  power, 
and  those  who  miss  these  supreme  results 
of  patience  and  toil  and  character  feel 
that  they  have  been  defrauded  of  that 
which  was  their  due.  The  old  stories  of 
magic  carry  a  deep  meaning  under  their 
wild  extravagances ;  they  betray  the 
mighty  passion  of  men  for  supremacy 
over  things  material  and  over  inferior 
orders  of  life.  The  man  with  genii  at 
his  command  could  build  palaces  in  a 
night,  and  rejoice  in  a  marvellous  mastery 
over  the  forces  against  which  so  many  of 
148 


The  Triumphant  Life 

his  fellows  seemed  to  measure  their 
strength  in  vain.  These  magical  suc 
cesses  are  foreshadowings  of  the  real 
successes  which  all  men  and  women 
crave ;  which  the  noblest  and  most  aspir 
ing  must  secure,  or  lose  the  joy  and 
sweetness  of  living.  These  real  successes 
are  not  external,  though  they  are  generally 
accompanied  by  visible  trophies ;  they 
are  achievements  of  character,  and  are 
largely  independent  of  conditions  and  of 
human  recognition.  The  man  whose 
life,  outwardly  all  defeat,  is  steadily  ex 
panding  in  its  interests  and  sympathies, 
steadily  growing  in  power  to  bear  and 
suffer  and  be  strong,  has  the  blessed  con 
sciousness  of  coming  into  his  kingdom. 
No  outward  disaster,  no  external  obstacle 
or  limitation,  can  ever  defeat  a  true  life ; 
it  can  escape  all  these  things  as  the  bird 
escapes  the  perils  of  the  snare  and  the  net 
by  flying  above  them.  This  highest  of 
all  successes  lies  within  the  grasp  of  every 
earnest  man  and  woman,  and  it  is  rarely 
without  attestations  of  its  presence  and. 
149 


Works  and  Days 

value,  even  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  take 
small  account  of  spiritual  things.  There 
is  a  force  which  streams  from  a  noble 
nature  which  is  as  irresistible  and  perva 
sive  as  the  sunlight.  The  warmth  and 
the  vitality  of  such  natures,  while  they 
invigorate  the  strongest  men  and  women 
about  them,  penetrate  to  the  heart  of 
clouded  and  obscure  lives,  and  minister 
to  their  need.  There  is  no  success  so 
satisfying  as  that  which  is  embodied  in 
one's  character,  and  so  cannot  be  taken 
from  him,  and  the  influence  of  which, 
embodied  in  the  character  of  others,  is 
also  indestructible. 


150 


THE  BEST  IN  THE  WORST 

IN  one  of  Browning's  most  inspiring 
poems  there  is  a  passage  in  which 
the  poet,  imagining  himself  face  to  face 
with  death,  declares  that 

"  Sudden  the  worst  turns  the  best  to  the  brave." 

This  is  no  fanciful  touch  of  the  im 
agination,  but  a  statement  of  a  fact  which 
has  occurred  again  and  again  in  innum 
erable  lives.  History  is  full  of  stories  of 
the  sudden  turn  of  fortune  when  things 
were  at  their  worst,  and  when  there  was 
apparently  no  possibility  of  anything  but 
final  disaster.  That  which  has  been  true 
of  life  on  a  large  scale  has  been  eminently 
true  of  individual  lives ;  in  which  again 
and  again,  when  fortune  has  been  at  the 
lowest  ebb,  the  tide  has  turned.  It  is 
always  hardest  to  believe  in  this  possi 
bility  when  such  a  belief  would  bring 


Works  and  Days 

consolation  and  courage.  When  things 
are  going  well,  and  the  outlook  is  bright, 
it  is  easy  to  fortify  one's  self  with  phi 
losophy,  and  to  hold  up  between  one's 
self  and  adversity  and  calamity  those 
shields  of  faith  and  truth  which  others 
have  found  invulnerable  in  the  hour  of 
need ;  but  it  is  a  different  thing,  when 
one's  whole  happiness  or  material  pros 
perity  is  at  stake,  to  face  the  possibilities 
of  the  future  with  calmness  and  courage. 
Nevertheless,  these  are  the  times  when 
every  one  should  take  counsel  with  his 
hopes  and  not  with  his  despair.  It  is 
an  old  proverb,  which  in  one  form  or 
another  has  found  its  way  into  almost 
every  language,  that  "  Man's  extremity 
is  God's  opportunity."  When  the  Jew 
consoled  himself  by  repeating  the  maxim 
of  his  nation,  "In  the  mount  God  will 
be  found,"  he  recalled  one  of  the  sorest 
trials  to  which  a  human  soul  was  ever 
subjected,  and  one  of  the  most  despairing 
situations  in  which  such  a  soul  was  ever 
placed.  To  those  who  fight  the  battle 


The  Best  in  the  Worst 

courageously  there  often  comes,  at  the 
very  moment  when  everything  seems 
lost,  some  reinforcement  that  turns  the 
tide.  The  man  who  has  worked  long 
and  intelligently  for  success  often  finds 
it  at  the  very  time  when  the  hope  of  it 
was  forever  leaving  him ;  or,  if  he  does 
not  find  it  precisely  that  for  which  he 
worked,  something  better  comes  to  him 
in  its  place.  Do  your  duty,  hold  to 
your  hope,  and  your  darkest  hour  may 
be  that  which  announces  the  dawn  of  a 
new  day. 


SPIRITUAL   SELF-RELIANCE 

THE  men  who  achieve  valuable  or 
permanent  results  in  life  are  always 
men  of  self-reliance, —  men,  that  is,  who, 
instead  of  accepting  the  standards  and 
methods  of  those  about  them,  create 
standards  and  methods  of  their  own. 
These  are  the  men  who  supply  the 
motive  power  of  society,  who  give  its 
currents  of  influence  and  action  direction 
and  force,  and  who  are  continually 
modifying  the  world  in  which  they  work. 
This  kind  of  self-reliance  involves  no 
egotistic  elevation  of  one's  judgment 
above  the  judgment  of  his  neighbors  ;  it 
simply  involves  a  clearer  insight  into  the 
laws  of  life  and  a  more  implicit  obedience 
of  them.  A  man  like  Marconi  finds  cer 
tain  results  already  achieved  through  the 
use  of  electricity,  and  certain  opinions 
already  formed  as  to  the  limitations  within 


Spiritual  Self-Reliance 

which  this  force  can  be  used.  Instead  of 
accepting  these  results  as  final,  he  applies 
himself  to  a  new  study  of  the  force 
itself,  and  soon  discovers,  if  not  new 
principles,  at  least  new  possibilities  of 
application.  He  does  not  reach  this 
result  without  doubt,  hesitation,  and 
long  questioning  with  himself.  Upon 
his  own  judgment  alone  he  is  compelled 
to  make  large  investments  of  time, 
money,  ability,  and  strength.  The  opin 
ion  of  those  around  him  is  generally 
adverse  to  his  success;  he  is  regarded 
as  a  dreamer,  as  a  man  deficient  in 
practical  sense  and  in  sound  judgment. 
If  he  is  a  sensitive  man  —  and  such  a 
man  generally  is  of  sensitive  temper 
ament  —  the  opinion  which  surrounds 
him  like  an  atmosphere  imposes  a  severe 
struggle  upon  him,  and  continually  holds 
a  great  temptation  before  him.  His 
weaker  self  continually  implores  him  to 
desist  and  fall  into  the  beaten  paths ;  his 
strong  self,  the  self  upon  which  he  relies, 
urges  him  forward.  In  the  end  he  makes 


Works  and  Days 

a  notable  addition  to  the  forces  which 
work  for  civilization,  and  he  does  this 
through  his  power  of  reliance,  not  upon 
his  weaker  but  upon  his  stronger  self. 
The  weaker  self  prompts  him  to  rely 
upon  the  judgment  of  his  fellows ;  the 
stronger  self  urges  him  to  rely  upon  his 
own  personal  insight  into  natural  laws, 
his  own  personal  comprehension  of  funda 
mental  principles.  True  self-reliance  is 
dependence  upon  principles  and  forces 
rather  than  upon  current  opinion  and 
established  judgments.  This  is  the  self- 
reliance  which  is  the  possession  of  all 
original  minds. 

There  is  a  spiritual  self-reliance  which 
is  the  secret  of  great  spiritual  attain 
ments  and  achievements.  It  is  the  pos 
session  of  this  self-reliance  which  lifts 
men  in  spiritual  power  above  their  fel 
lows,  which  transforms  them  from  mere 
recipients  of  influences  already  in  the 
world  into  sources  of  new  influences. 
The  man  of  commonplace  spiritual  ex 
perience  and  ordinary  spiritual  strength 
156 


Spiritual  Self-Reliance 

accepts  the  standard  of  those  about  him, 
and  lives  by  the  laws  which  govern  his 
fellow-men  ;  the  man  of  spiritual  reli 
ance  turns  away  from  these  things,  and 
trusts  his  own  intuitions  of  spiritual 
truth,  and  his  own  perception  of  spiritual 
realities.  His  hands,  his  feet,  his  heart, 
his  thoughts,  are  still  with  his  fellow- 
men  ;  but  these  are  the  servants  of  a 
new  truth  and  a  new  power  which  have 
come  to  him,  not  from  looking  at  his 
fellows,  but  at  God.  If  Abraham  had 
been  like  the  men  about  him,  he  would 
have  stayed  with  his  flocks  and  his 
friends  in  the  fertile  lands  of  his  fathers. 
This  was,  no  doubt,  what  his  lower  self 
prompted  him  to  do ;  this  was  his  temp 
tation.  But  he  was  a  man  of  true  spirit 
ual  self-reliance.  Instead  of  accepting 
the  standards  of  his  fellows,  he  trusted 
his  own  spiritual  intuitions,  his  own  per 
ception  of  what  was  right,  and  his  spirit 
ual  self-reliance  was  the  beginning  of  a 
great  history.  The  same  story  might 
be  told  of  Moses,  of  Isaiah,  of  Paul,  and 
'57 


Works  and  Days 

of  every  other  great  religious  teacher 
and  reformer.  All  these  leaders  trusted 
to  their  personal  perception  of  God,  of 
duty,  of  truth,  and  not  to  the  percep 
tions  of  those  who  surrounded  them. 
And  this  is  the  secret  of  all  religious 
thinking  and  living. 


'58 


THE    HIGHEST   VALUE   ON 
OURSELVES 

DISCOURAGEMENT  and  despair 
are  the  moods  in  which  men  make 
irredeemable  mistakes.  When  hope  goes 
out,  the  soul  is  defenceless  against  its 
worst  enemies.  No  man  commits  suicide, 
either  morally  or  physically,  until  he 
believes  that  he  has  tried  every  door  of 
escape,  and  that  they  are  all  barred 
against  him.  So  long  as  any  light 
comes  into  the  prison-house  in  which 
a  man  sometimes  finds  himself,  he  will 
grope  about  for  means  of  escape ;  it  is 
only  when  the  blackness  is  absolute  that 
he  gives  up  the  fight.  No  man  who 
believes  in  God  ever  has  either  the 
occasion  or  the  right  to  despair ;  there 
is  for  him  a  calm  beyond  every  storm, 
however  fierce,  a  sunrise  after  every 
night,  however  dark.  It  is,  nevertheless, 


Works  and  Days 

very  hard,  when  some  great  calamity  or 
sorrow  is  coincident  with  physical  de 
pression,  to  keep  one's  heart  and  to 
preserve  one's  faith.  There  are  times 
when  every  man  must  put  away  the 
ulterior  things  for  which  he  has  been 
fighting,  and  fight  simply  for  life,  —  that 
is,  for  hope.  To  let  in  despair  is  to 
give  up  life.  We  owe  it  to  ourselves  to 
believe  always  that  the  best  and  highest 
things  were  intended  for  us.  The  man 
who  values  himself  at  a  low  price  will 
not  only  receive  a  corresponding  valu 
ation  from  others,  but  will  finally  reduce 
his  actual  worth  to  the  price  which  he 
has  fixed. 

Putting  the  highest  possible  price  on 
ourselves  does  not  mean  that  we  consider 
ourselves  at  the  moment  worth  the  price, 
but  it  does  mean  that  we  intend  to  make 
that  price  represent  our  actual  value  to 
the  world.  The  man  who  believes  that 
honor  and  reputation  and  eminent  use 
fulness  are  coming  to  him  by  and  by  will 
not  readily  give  up  the  future  gain  for 
1 60 


The  Highest  Value  on  Ourselves 

some  small  bribe  which  the  present 
offers  ;  will  not  let  sloth  and  carelessness 
eat  the  heart  out  of  his  working  power; 
will  not  be  content  with  small  and 
meagre  performance  of  his  duties  from 
day  to  day ;  will  not  limit  and  hamper 
his  power  by  some  false  step,  entangling 
himself  finally  in  the  mist  which  a 
momentary  discouragement  has  spread 
about  him.  It  is  in  times  of  discourage 
ment  and  despair,  when  a  man  loses 
sight  of  his  ultimate  value,  that  he 
commits  some  lasting  mistake,  or  blights 
his  life  with  some  irredeemable  weakness 
or  sin.  If  in  that  hour  the  light  of  the 
future  could  suddenly  be  shed  about 
him,  and  he  could  see  himself  at  the 
height  of  his  possibilities,  the  temptation 
for  the  moment  so  attractive  and  irresist 
ible  would  seem  contemptibly  cheap  and 
tawdry,  and  would  be  put  aside  almost 
without  a  struggle.  That  vision,  how 
ever,  comes  to  us  only  in  our  best  mo 
ments  ;  what  we  have  to  do  in  our 
weaker  moments  is  to  believe  in  it  and 
"  161 


Works  and  Days 

live  by  it,  although  it  is  hidden  from  us. 
We  shall  never  make  any  serious  mistake 
or  fall  into  any  lasting  sin  if  we  can  keep 
this  faith  burning  forever  like  a  lamp  in 
our  souls.  Put  the  highest  possible 
value  on  yourself,  and  scornfully  refuse 
all  those  bribes  which  the  present  is 
constantly  offering,  and  the  acceptance 
of  which  means  nothing  less  than  the 
sale  of  your  future. 


162 


PATIENT  LOYALTIES 

HE  must  have  a  very  small  acquaint 
ance  with  men  and  women  who 
doubts  the  existence  of  as  general  and  as 
noble  an  illustration  of  heroism  to-day 
as  the  world  has  ever  seen.  There  are 
few  families  in  any  civilized  community 
in  which  there  is  not  some  man  or  woman 
whose  whole  life  is  one  of  heroic  although 
obscure  sacrifice,  —  the  kind  of  sacrifice 
which  is  all  the  more  heroic  because  it 
has  no  other  satisfaction  than  the  con 
sciousness  of  an  obligation  discharged  and 
a  duty  performed.  There  are  no  more 
beautiful  exhibitions  of  the  finer  qualities 
of  human  character  than  are  to  be  found 
in  these  patient  loyalties ;  these  devotions 
of  the  household,  unsustained  by  any 
public  recognition,  uninspired  by  the 
hope  of  any  conspicuous  achievement, 
but  none  the  less  faithfully  persevered  in 
163 


Works  and  Days 

to  the  end.  Stanley's  journey  through 
Equatorial  Africa  oppresses  one's  im 
agination  with  a  sense  of  its  indescribable 
toil  and  hardship ;  but  the  great  explorer 
had  the  consciousness  of  doing  a  piece  of 
work  which  was  not  only  heroic,  but 
which  had  world-wide  relations  and  would 
receive  world-wide  recognition.  There 
are  countless  lives  which  in  unbroken 
continuity  of  toil  parallel  Stanley's  jour 
ney,  and  yet  are  unattended  by  any  of 
the  inspiring  circumstances  which  sus 
tained  the  explorer.  For  a  host  of  people 
life  means  little  more  than  unbroken  toil 
and  uninterrupted  self-sacrifice,  and  in 
many  of  these  cases  the  beauty  of  the 
life  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  man  or  woman 
who  is  showing  this  noble  strength  is  un 
conscious  of  any  special  achievement.  It 
is  easy  to  face  great  dangers  when  they 
last  but  a  little  while,  and  when  their  suc 
cessful  endurance  means  recognition  and 
honor ;  but  the  patient  loyalties  of  pri 
vate  life,  the  self-effacement  of  women 
for  the  sake  of  those  in  their  own  house- 
164 


Patient  Loyalties 

hold  who  often  have  neither  comprehen 
sion  of  the  sacrifice  made  for  them  nor 
gratitude  for  it,  involve  another  and  a 
higher  kind  of  courage.  In  every  situa 
tion  in  life  there  are  men  and  women 
who  are  quietly  putting  their  own  in 
terests  out  of  sight  in  order  that  some 
other,  less  vigorous  or  less  fortunate,  may 
be  sustained  and  cared  for.  These  beau 
tiful  sacrifices,  concealed  as  they  are  from 
the  world,  constitute  a  chapter  of  hero 
ism  the  like  of  which  has  never  been 
written  by  the  splendid  daring  of  war 
and  exploration. 


165 


CHERISH  YOUR  IDEALS 

IN  every  community  there  are  to  be 
found  men  and  women  who  are 
steadily  moving  ahead  of  the  rank  and 
file  of  their  neighbors  and  companions ; 
every  year  reveals  a  wider  separation  and 
stamps  them  with  a  more  aspiring  per 
sonality.  Even  the  most  unobservant 
begins  to  feel  that  there  is  something  un 
usual  about  these  marked  men  and 
women ;  something  which  defines  them 
from  the  mass  of  commonplace  people 
about  them.  They  are  born  to  rise  by 
the  possession  of  some  spiritual  quality ; 
some  aspiration  which  by  its  own  impulse 
lifts  them  out  of  their  surroundings  and 
sets  them  in  a  new  world  of  thought  and 
feeling.  It  is  not  necessary  that  one 
should  be  born  amid  the  surroundings 
of  refinement  and  culture  in  order  to 
attain  the  very  best  results  which  these 
1 66 


Cherish  your  Ideals 

things  have  to  give.  It  is  an  advantage 
to  be  thus  born,  and  to  absorb  in  child 
hood,  by  the  unconscious  process  of 
early  education,  much  that  must  other 
wise  be  learned  ;  but  this  is  an  advantage 
which  a.  good  many  strong  natures  have 
missed  without  apparently  suffering  any 
real  loss.  The  making  of  an  intellectual 
life  is  always  a  personal  matter.  Intelli 
gence,  culture,  and  the  resources  that 
come  from  these  attainments  lie  within 
the  reach  of  almost  every  one  in  this 
country  who  gets  a  clear  vision  of  what 
he  wants  and  is  willing  to  work  for  it. 

There  is  something  very  noble  and 
inspiring  in  the  spectacle,  so  often  pre 
sented  in  American  communities,  of  those 
who  by  some  finer  quality  of  character  or 
mind  are  steadily  moving  away  from 
commonplace  life  and  achieving  that  per 
sonal  distinction  which  belongs  to  all  who 
live  in  fellowship  with  the  highest  intel 
lectual  ideals  and  in  companionship  with 
the  finer  minds  of  the  world.  Such  an 
aspiration  is  often  unrecognized  by  those 
167 


Works  and  Days 

who  stand  nearest  and  ought  to  help 
most ;  it  is  often  misunderstood  and  re 
sented  as  an  ambition  to  be  better  than 
one's  fellows  or  one's  family ;  but  those 
who  have  the  real  quality  can  well  afford 
to  disregard  this  lack  of  sympathy  or  the 
criticism  which  comes  from  this  kind  of 
misinterpretation.  A  genuine  aspiration 
is  never  otherwise  than  noble  and  unself 
ish,  even  when  it  draws  one  away  from 
the  natural  companionships  of  life, — sep 
arates  one,  that  is,  not  in  feeling  or  in 
sympathy  or  in  the  common  fidelities, 
but  in  taste  and  habit  and  intellectual 
companionship.  No  young  man  or 
woman  need  live  a  commonplace  life. 
There  is  always  an  open  path  to  the 
higher  ranges  of  living  for  those  who  are 
willing  to  take  it.  Cherish  your  aspira 
tions  and  live  by  them ;  they  are  your 
real  guides ;  they  embody  the  divine 
ideal  of  your  life  ! 


168 


THE    DENIALS  OF   GOD 

THE  suggestion  made  a  few  years 
ago  to  test  the  efficacy  of  prayer 
by  scientific  methods  excited  a  great  deal 
of  journalistic  interest  and  was  widely 
commented  upon,  but  disclosed  from  the 
very  beginning  lack  of  insight  into  the 
true  nature  of  prayer;  for  the  essence 
of  prayer  is  not  confidence  in  the  ability 
of  the  petitioner  to  bend  the  Infinite 
Will  or  to  control  the  power  of  the 
Infinite  arm  for  his  own  ends.  He 
would  be  a  rash  man,  essentially  unsci 
entific  as  well  as  profoundly  irreligious, 
who  should  venture  to  set  a  limit  to 
what  is  called  the  direct  answer  to  prayer, 
—  that  is  to  say,  the  answer  in  the  form 
in  which  the  prayer  is  presented ;  but 
the  essence  of  prayer  is  always  submis 
sion  to  the  Divine  Will;  it  is  a  petition 
for  what  the  petitioner  believes  to  be  the 
best  good  of  some  person  or  some  cause. 
169 


Works  and  Days 

If  he  could  understand  that  what  he  asks 
for,  if  granted,  would  involve  great  mis 
fortune  or  serious  moral  disintegration 
to  the  person  or  cause,  the  prayer  would 
never  be  made.  Now,  any  intelligent  con 
ception  of  prayer  involves  this  purpose  on 
the  part  of  the  individual,  and  conceives 
of  the  answer  to  prayer  as  being  dictated 
by  the  divine  insight  into  the  purpose 
and  needs  of  the  petitioner.  For  this 
reason  the  silences  of  God  are  as  signifi 
cant  as  those  responses  which  seem  so 
direct  that  we  can  hardly  question  their 
authority ;  and  the  denials  of  God  are  as 
much  answers  to  prayer  as  are  his  silences 
or  his  responses.  Shakespeare  saw  this 
distinctly,  great  psychologist  as  he  was, 
when  he  said: 

We,  ignorant  of  ourselves, 

Beg  often  our  own  harms,  which  the  wise  powers 
Deny  us  for  our  good  :  so  find  we  profit 
By  losing  of  our  prayers. 

Probably  no  one  will  read  these  words 

who  cannot  look  back  at  some  cherished 

hope  or  some  passionately  loved  purpose 

170 


The  Denials  of  God 

the  denial  of  which  brought  at  the  mo 
ment  sorrow  and  something  like  despair ; 
that  denial,  however,  seen  in  the  light  of 
to-day,  stands  out  as  the  greatest  piece 
of  good  fortune.  Many  a  man  has 
striven  for  some  special  position  upon 
which  he  had  set  his  heart,  some  special 
specific  opportunity  which  seemed  to  him 
the  only  open  door  to  fortune,  and  when 
the  position  slipped  through  his  fingers, 
or  the  opportunity  went  in  some  other 
direction,  it  seemed  as  if  life  had  ended  ; 
but,  looking  back  after  a  decade,  it  is 
often  evident  that  the  loss  of  the  position 
and  the  missing  of  the  opportunity  were 
the  very  things  which  opened  the  way 
for  a  higher  and  broader  success.  Our 
prayers  are  limited  by  our  knowledge, 
but  they  are  answered  out  of  the  wisdom 
of  God.  For  that  reason  they  are  per 
haps  as  often  denied  as  granted,  and  in 
the  denial  the  petitioners  are  most  truly 
heard. 


171 


THE   SOUL   OF    WORK 

THE  first  and  constant  demand  of 
all  his  employees  and  co-workers 
made  by  a  very  successful  man  of  busi 
ness  in  New  York  is  that  their  spirit 
shall  be  right ;  so  long  as  their  hearts 
are  in  the  work  he  cares  little  for  details. 
Not  every  man  of  action  is  so  keen- 
sighted  ;  most  men  of  this  stamp  are  ex 
acting  in  matters  of  discipline,  and  care 
little  for  the  spirit  in  which  the  work  is 
done.  The  spirit  is,  nevertheless,  the 
main  thing;  if  the  spirit  is  right,  there 
will  be  no  shirking,  no  inefficiency,  no 
procrastination.  Where  a  man's  spirit 
leads  him,  there  will  his  feet  walk  will 
ingly  and  his  hands  toil  gladly.  He 
will  need  neither  urging  nor  watching; 
no  one  will  demand  so  much  of  him  as 
172 


The  Soul  of  Work 

he  will  demand  of  himself;  no  one  will 
be  half  so  critical  of  his  manner  and 
method  as  himself.  When  the  motive 
power  is  right,  the  machinery  will  look 
after  itself;  if  the  motive  power  is  defec 
tive  or  unregulated,  the  finest  machinery 
is  useless.  Now,  one  of  the  secrets  of 
success  is  getting  one's  spirit  into  one's 
work ;  getting  behind  all  one's  activities 
the  full  force  of  one's  motive  power. 
This  is  by  no  means  so  common  as  one 
would  think ;  it  is,  in  fact,  so  uncommon 
that  when  a  man  puts  his  whole  force 
into  his  work  he  soon  attracts  attention 
because  by  that  very  fact  he  separates 
himself  from  the  crowd. 

A  great  deal  of  the  work  of  the  world 
is  done  in^a  perfunctory  manner ;  done 
to  get  through  with  it ;  done  to  secure 
the  return  which  it  promises.  It  is  done 
without  enthusiasm,  originality,  conta 
gious  zeal.  Stores,  shops,  offices,  facto 
ries,  are  full  of  men  whose  chief  desire 
is  to  get  their  work  off  their  hands  as 
quickly  and  with  as  little  expenditure  of 


Works  and  Days 

strength  as  possible.  They  put  as  little 
of  themselves  as  possible  into  it.  These 
are  not  the  men  who  invent  new  methods, 
perfect  new  processes,  secure  rapid  and 
honorable  advancement;  they  are  not 
the  men  upon  whom  everybody  relies, 
whom  everybody  trusts,  who  turn  the 
reluctant  face  of  Fortune  towards  them 
selves. 

The  men  who  give  their  work  char 
acter,  distinction,  perfection,  are  the  men 
whose  spirit  is  behind  their  hands,  giving 
them  a  new  dexterity.  There  is  no 
kind  of  work,  from  the  merest  routine  to 
the  highest  creative  activity,  which  does 
not  receive  all  that  gives  it  quality  from 
the  spirit  in  which  it  is  done  or  fashioned. 
Work  without  spirit  is  a  body  without 
soul ;  there  is  no  life  in  it.  Flawless 
workmanship  is  tinsel  unless  touched  by 
some  influence  of  the  spirit ;  imperfect 
workmanship  is  often  redeemed  by  the 
power  of  spirit  lodged  in  it.  Every 
thing  that  lacks  spirit  is  mechanical,  no 
matter  how  high  the  grade  of  its  execu- 


The  Soul  of  Work 

tion ;  everything  that  contains  spirit 
possesses  life.  To  put  spirit  into  one's 
work  is  to  vitalize  it,  to  give  it  force, 
character,  originality,  distinction.  It  is 
to  put  the  stamp  of  one's  nature  on  it, 
and  the  living  power  of  one's  soul  into 
it.  When  Mr.  Arnold,  in  one  of  his 
brief  speeches  in  this  country,  urged 
young  writers  to  put  their  hearts  into 
their  business,  he  disclosed  one  of  the 
sources  of  his  own  influence.  His  tech 
nical  skill  was  great,  his  sense  of  beauty 
delicate  and  almost  faultless,  his  instinct 
for  form  unerring ;  but  all  these  qualities, 
though  they  gave  his  work  a  great  charm, 
did  not  give  that  work  its  peculiar  influ 
ence  upon  many  of  the  finest  minds  of 
the  day.  That  influence  came  from  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Arnold  put  his  spirit  into 
every  line  he  wrote,  charged  his  work 
with  his  own  personality.  It  is  the 
quality  of  spirit  which  gives  his  verse  its 
beautiful  meditativeness,  and  his  prose  its 
peculiar  sincerity  and  audacity.  That 
which  imparts  life  to  the  highest  artistic 


Works  and  Days 

work  imparts  it  to  every  kind  of  activity 
to  which  men  set  their  hands.  It  is 
always  the  man  who  puts  his  spirit  into 
his  work  who  makes  his  work  tell  for  his 
own  success  and  advancement. 


176 


SELF   AND   OTHERS 

THERE  is  a  sublime  order  in  hu 
man  life  as  well  as  in  the  universe 
which  surrounds  and  sustains  it,  —  an 
order  which  comprehends  all  needs,  co 
ordinates  all  action,  and  provides  for  all 
growth.  The  chemical  relations  of  mat 
ter  are  but  imperfect  analogues  of  the  deli 
cacy,  the  multiplicity,  and  the  inclusive- 
ness  of  moral  relations.  All  things  which 
men  touch  through  any  sense,  by  any 
thought,  in  any  act,  distil  some  moral 
quality  and  react  either  for  good  or  ill. 
We  are  played  upon  by  influences  too 
many  for  our  comprehension,  too  deli 
cate  for  our  observation,  too  far-reaching 
for  our  foresight.  When  we  seem  to  be 
sacrificing  things  most  precious  to  us,  we 
are  often  receiving  them  back  in  some 
finer  and  imperishable  form ;  when  we 
seem  to  be  working  solely  for  others,  we 
"  177 


Works  and  Days 

are  often  serving  ourselves  in  the  highest 
and  noblest  way. 

Doing  for  others,  bearing  the  burdens 
of  others,  identifying  ourselves  with  the 
struggles  and  labors  of  others,  help 
mightily  in  the  working  out  of  our  own 
lives.  It  is  wise  to  drop  resolutely  our 
difficulties  at  times,  to  turn  aside  abruptly 
from  the  questions  which  we  are  trying 
to  answer;  it  invigorates  the  soul  and 
gives  the  mind  a  new  grip  on  the  per 
plexing  problems.  Mathematicians  car 
rying  on  extended  calculations  sometimes 
find  themselves  forced  to  clear  their  minds 
of  figures  and  betake  themselves  to  some 
other  occupation  or  amusement;  when 
the  mind  has  recovered  its  tone,  the 
tangles  are  swiftly  straightened  out. 
Every  life  needs  a  large  and  noble  di 
version  from  its  perplexities  and  cares; 
needs  a  catholic  sympathy  with  others  to 
preserve  it  from  selfishness,  a  steady 
and  hearty  co-operation  with  others  to 
give  its  own  work  breadth  and  solidity. 
No  sane  man  lives  for  himself;  sooner 
178 


Self  and  Others 

or  later,  a  life  wholly  self-centred  loses 
its  soundness  and  becomes  distorted  and 
diseased.  The  two  elements  of  self-de 
velopment  and  care  for  the  interests  of 
others  must  be  kept  in  equipoise  if  har 
mony,  sympathy,  and  largeness  of  char 
acter  are  to  be  secured  and  maintained. 
The  true  remedy  for  morbid  self-con 
sciousness,  the  real  refuge  from  personal 
grief  and  loss,  are  to  be  found,  not  in  the 
monastery,  as  the  old  ascetics  thought, 
but  in  closer  contact  with  the  suffering 
world,  in  more  devoted  consecration  to 
the  welfare  of  those  about  us.  There  is 
no  such  efficient  help  for  ourselves  as 
lending  a  hand  to  aid  our  fellows.  When 
Faust  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  long 
seeking,  he  found  the  happiness  which 
had  always  eluded  him  in  giving  himself 
to  the  service  of  men.  It  was  not  in 
self-gratification  that  the  tragic  problem 
of  his  life  worked  itself  out,  but  by  large 
works  for  the  public  welfare.  Knowl 
edge,  power,  and  passion  failed  to  satisfy ; 
it  was  only  when  unselfish  purpose  tri- 
179 


Works  and  Days 

umphed  over  all  lower  ambitions  that 
peace  and  victory  came.  Not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  was 
the  aim  of  the  divinest  life  ever  lived 
among  men. 


180 


WAIT  FOR  RESULTS 

THE  besetting  sin  of  many  men  is 
impatience  ;  unwillingness  to  wait 
until  their  experience  bears  fruit,  or  their 
thought  has  traversed  the  whole  field  of 
fact,  before  arriving  at  a  final  conclusion. 
This  has  always  been  a  besetting  sin  of 
the  race ;  men  have  constituted  them 
selves  arbiters,  and  sat  in  judgment  on 
the  universe  when  their  knowledge  in 
cluded  only  a  few  facts  and  covered  a 
very  small  field.  They  were  ready  with 
the  naked  eye  to  formulate  the  science 
of  astronomy  before  the  telescope  had 
opened  up  the  heavens  to  them ;  they 
hastened  to  create  for  themselves  images 
of  God  before  their  minds  had  yet  opened 
to  any  large  revelation  of  Him ;  they 
manufactured  systems  of  theology  while 
they  were  still  ignorant  of  some  of  the 
most  important  facts  concerning  them- 
181 


Works  and  Days 

selves  and  the  world  in  which  they  lived. 
Theories  of  literature  and  art,  once  held 
and  now  abandoned,  strew  the  road  along 
which  men  have  travelled  as  the  deserted 
shells  line  the  sea-shore.  Only  the  most 
thoughtful  and  reverent  have  been  con 
tent  to  wait  patiently  on  the  Lord  ;  the 
great  mass  have  rushed  on  and  ended  in 
some  dark  ignorance  which  they  have 
established  as  a  system  of  knowledge. 
It  is  one  of  the  healthy  signs  of  human 
growth  that  thoughtful  men  are  becom 
ing  more  and  more  shy  of  systems  and 
theories  which  claim  to  be  final,  and  are 
holding  more  and  more  to  what  are 
known  as  working  theories,  —  explana 
tions  of  facts,  in  other  words,  which  afford 
the  basis  of  further  observation  and  re 
flection.  The  mere  expansion  of  thought, 
without  conscious  destructive  purpose, 
has  relegated  many  systems  of  the  past 
to  the  limbo  in  which  are  collected  all 
manner  of  discarded  and  worn-out  things. 
The  world  and  life  and  literature  and  art 
have  disclosed  so  many  new  aspects,  have 
182 


Wait  for  Results 

revealed  such  unsuspected  depths,  that 
the  most  thoughtful  men  are  content  to 
wait  for  fuller  knowledge  before  attempt 
ing  a  final  explanation. 

The  same  impatience  is  manifested  by 
most  of  us  in  our  personal  experience. 
We  are  unwilling  to  submit  ourselves  to 
the  discipline  of  a  wisdom  larger  than 
our  own,  to  the  guidance  of  a  power 
superior  to  ourselves.  We  demand  every 
night  an  explanation  of  the  events  of  the 
day.  Every  painful  experience,  every 
self-denial,  every  sorrow,  wrings  from  us 
an  impatient  cry  because  we  do  not  un 
derstand  it  at  the  moment.  Our  con 
ception  of  life  is  so  small  and  mean  that 
we  feel  as  if  we  ought  to  be  able  to 
understand  every  part  of  it  from  hour 
to  hour.  We  are  not  content  with  the 
revelation  which  makes  clear  to  us 
how  to  live  justly  and  rightly  ;  we  de 
mand  that  fuller  revelation  which  makes 
all  things  plain  to  thought ;  we  are  un 
willing  to  sit  as  pupils  at  the  feet  of 
Life  ;  we  continually  demand  to  be  ac- 
183 


Works  and  Days 

cepted  as  equals  of  the  great  teacher  to 
whose  care  God  has  committed  us ;  we 
refuse  to  learn  the  lesson  of  experience, 
whose  perpetual  word  is  —  Be  patient. 
Again  and  again  the  years  have  brought 
to  us  the  knowledge  which  the  earliest 
moments  of  loss  and  sorrow  denied  us ; 
but  with  each  new  enforced  surrender 
of  our  purposes  and  our  pleasures  we 
repeat  the  old  blunder  ;  and,  instead  of 
waiting  patiently  until  the  fruit  of  the 
experience  has  ripened,  we  interrogate  the 
silence  which  surrounds  us,  and  when  it 
refuses  to  answer,  we  cry  out  in  bitter 
ness  and  despair.  A  nobler  view  of 
life  would  make  us  content  and  even 
glad  to  wait  for  the  larger  truths  and 
the  deeper  joys  which  an  unfolding  ex 
perience  contains  for  those  who  are  pa 
tient  and  faithful. 


184 


AT   OUR   DOORS 

MOST  men  and  women  have  un 
selfish  impulses  ;  they  would 
like  to  serve  some  good  cause  or  to  help 
some  struggling  person.  In  many  cases 
these  impulses  never  get  beyond  the 
stage  of  impulse ;  they  appear  on  the 
horizon  of  thought  and  disappear  like 
beautiful  summer  clouds  ;  they  are  radi 
ant,  remote,  and  unfertile.  There  are 
some,  however,  to  whom  these  unselfish 
desires  come  more  frequently,  and  are 
more  constantly  present,  but  remain  im 
pulse  only  because  there  seems  to  be  no 
way  to  make  them  operative  ;  perpetually 
suggesting  the  performance  of  a  work 
which  the  hand  seems  unable  to  do  because 
the  opportunity  is  apparently  lacking. 
Such  men  and  women  are  often  envious 
of  those  who  have  been  called  to  harder 
but  more  unselfish  careers.  If  such  work 
'85 


Works  and  Days 

came  to  their  hand,  they  are  sure  they 
would  do  it ;  but  what  possible  service 
can  they  perform  in  their  limited  field  ? 
There  never  was  a  greater  mistake  than 
that  which  removes  the  need  and  want  of 
the  world  to  a  distance ;  which  makes 
people  feel  that  they  are  shut  out  from 
noble  unselfishness  of  thought  and  action 
by  reason  of  the  narrow  range  of  activity 
about  them.  There  is  no  community  so 
small  that  there  is  not  room  in  it  for  the 
spirit  and  work  of  large-hearted  and 
large-minded  men  and  women ;  there 
is  no  village,  no  remote  neighborhood 
which  does  not  cry  out  for  the  inspi 
ration  and  help  of  a  great  service. 
The  great  problems  are  never  at  the 
ends  of  the  earth  ;  they  are  always  at 
our  own  doors,  and  we  turn  them  away 
as  if  they  were  beggars,  instead  of 
God's  messengers,  sent  to  us  with  a 
divine  commission  for  a  divine  work. 
First  and  foremost,  it  may  be  the  privi 
lege  of  every  man  and  woman  to  enrich 
the  community  with  one  of  those  noble 
186 


At  Our  Doors 

and  unselfish  natures  which  are  a  per 
petual  ministration  of  heaven  in  the 
world  ;  those  natures  which  diffuse  cheer 
and  light  and  faith  in  high  things  as  the 
sun  diffuses  heat  and  power  through  the 
whole  atmosphere.  The  value  of  one 
noble  man  or  woman  in  a  community  is 
simply  incalculable ;  no  service  of  the 
hands,  no  special  work  for  any  cause,  is 
comparable  with  it  in  influence  and  inspi 
ration.  The  influence  of  one  man  who 
looks  over  the  narrow  walls  of  his  own 
interests  and  carries  the  welfare  of  his 
neighbors  in  his  heart  and  mind,  is  like 
the  falling  of  the  rain  which  revitalizes 
every  living  thing.  This  noblest  service 
to  your  kind  is  open  to  you.  Does  your 
life  touch  the  community  in  which  you 
live  with  the  power  which  stimulates 
every  good  enterprise  ?  Does  your  char 
acter  mean  kindlier  feeling,  purer  religion, 
better  education  for  and  among  your 
neighbors  ? 


187 


AFTER  THE   NIGHT 

THERE  are  days  in  every  life  when 
sorrows  and  troubles  that  have 
been  fought  against  and  held  in  control 
by  a  strong  will  overflow  all  barriers  and 
threaten  to  overwhelm  the  soul.  Wave 
after  wave  of  anguish  sweeps  over  one, 
until  every  landmark  is  lost  and  one 
prays  for  death.  Such  hours  have  no 
instant  consolation ;  faith  cannot  hold 
them  at  a  distance ;  activity,  courage, 
consecration,  cannot  avoid  them  ;  they 
belong  to  our  human  life,  and  they  must 
be  endured  as  part  of  our  human  expe 
rience.  Even  Christ  was  not  free  from 
such  hours  of  anguish ;  the  story  of  the 
desert,  of  Gethsemane,  of  many  a  lonely 
mountain-watch,  if  it  could  be  told  or 
comprehended,  would  touch  the  world 
anew  with  a  sense  of  gratitude  to  One 
who  bore  our  sorrows  and  carried  our 
188 


After  the  Night 

griefs.  Clearly  as  the  stars  of  truth  and 
of  purpose  shone  down  into  the  depths  of 
that  marvellous  nature,  there  were  nights 
when  their  light  was  dimmed  by  a  mist 
of  tears ;  there  were  moments,  brief  but 
terrible,  when  the  agony  was  almost  too 
great  to  be  borne. 

In  the  darkness  which  overshadows  us 
at  such  times,  we  are  often  tempted  to 
cry  out,  "  My  God  !  why  hast  Thou  for 
saken  me  ? "  The  desolation  has  not 
only  blotted  out  the  joy  of  the  familiar 
world  about  us ;  it  has  hidden  the  very 
heavens,  and  left  us  alone  and  hopeless 
in  the  universe.  But  that  cry  which 
seems  to  have  the  accent  of  death  in  it 
may  be  the  birth-cry  of  a  nobler  life ;  the 
God  who  seemed  to  have  turned  away 
from  the  cross  on  Calvary  was  never  so 
near  to  humanity  as  in  that  awful  moment, 
when  the  heart-broken  sufferer  was  just 
about  to  emerge  from  darkness  into  the 
unbroken  light  of  immortal  triumph. 
His  trial,  His  solitude,  His  anguish,  were 
all  behind  Him  when  that  startling  cry 
189 


Works  and  Days 

was  wrung  from  Him  ;  He  seemed  to  be 
entering  Cimmerian  night,  but  He  was 
really  on  the  threshold  of  eternal  day. 
In  our  history  the  same  experience  is 
often  told;  in  our  Gethsemane  blackness 
seems  to  have  settled  down  forever,  but 
the  splendor  of  the  resurrection  morning 
is  only  three  days  removed.  Human 
anguish  is  real  and  terrible,  as  real  and 
terrible  for  the  moment  as  if  it  were  to 
be  eternal ;  but,  at  the  longest,  how  brief 
it  is  compared  with  the  sweep  and  du 
ration  of  our  life !  The  very  memory 
of  those  hopeless  griefs  of  childhood 
which  once  held  us  in  their  grasp  has 
faded ;  we  cannot  recall  them  ;  or,  if  we 
recall  them,  it  is  without  any  sense  of 
pain.  Many  a  bitter  disappointment 
and  trial  lies  behind  us,  beautiful  now  as 
we  look  back  on  it,  with  the  light  of  a 
purpose  higher,  and  a  wisdom  wiser  than 
ours.  No  noble  soul  ever  passes  through 
the  night  of  anguish  without  finding,  as 
the  shadows  fall  away,  a  new  and  heavenly 
light  on  the  familiar  earth.  So  Savona- 
190 


After  the  Night 

rola  passes  into  a  nobler  conception  of 
his  mission  to  men  ;  so  Dante  enters  into 
a  world  untrodden  before  by  human  feet; 
so  the  nation  casts  off  its  burden  of 
wrong,  and  stands  erect,  conscious  of  a 
new  life  in  its  heart  and  a  new  and 
grander  work  in  its  hands.  The  hour 
on  the  cross  will  never  be  otherwise 
than  unspeakably  bitter,  but  the  morning 
of  the  resurrection  is  always  just  beyond. 


191 


SUCCESS   IN   FAILURE 

THE  man  who  has  learned  to  make 
his  failures  the  omens  of  success 
has  learned  one  of  the  most  valuable 
secrets  of  life.  Some  men  are  discour 
aged  by  their  failures ;  they  accept  the 
momentary  defeat  as  a  final  decision 
against  them,  and  they  retire  from  the 
struggle  disheartened  and  vanquished. 
Life  has  gone  against  them,  and  they 
will  strive  no  more.  There  are  other 
men,  however,  to  whom  failure  never 
suggests  anything  more  disastrous  than  a 
wrong  method,  an  imperfect  plan,  a  faulty 
piece  of  work.  The  thought  of  defeat 
never  comes  to  them  ;  they  will  find  the 
defect,  remedy  it,  and  strive  again.  Fail 
ure  to  such  men  is  the  discipline  which 
prepares  for  success,  the  education  which 
trains  for  victory.  Such  momentary  de 
feats  lie  in  the  way  of  every  noble  con 
quest  in  science,  literature,  art,  public 
192 


Success  in  Failure 

life,  or  practical  enterprise.  Few  great 
questions  are  settled  at  the  start,  few 
great  reforms  are  effected  in  a  day,  few 
notable  inventions  work  well  on  the  first 
trial,  few  strong  men  disclose  their  full 
power  and  take  their  true  place  by  a 
single  brilliant  achievement.  Slow  ex 
perimentation,  frequent  failure,  delay, 
opposition,  obstacles,  lie  along  the  road 
to  success  in  every  line  of  work,  and 
remind  us  constantly  that  God  means 
that  every  man  shall  get  character  out 
of  his  work,  even  more  richly  than  he 
gets  material  reward. 

Our  thought  and  our  talk  about  suc 
cess  are  rarely  spiritual,  often  purely 
material.  The  end  of  business  is  to 
make  men ;  but  to  hear  many  business 
men  talk  it  would  seem  as  if  men  were 
made  for  business  only.  Anything  that 
interferes  with  the  profits  of  the  year  is  a 
calamity,  although  it  may  mean  the  re 
turn  of  moral  health  to  the  whole  com 
munity.  There  are  multitudes  who  would 
like  to  put  principles,  progress,  sentiment, 
13  193 


Works  and  Days 

out  of  the  world  because  these  things  are 
constantly  disturbing  the  market.  They 
would  rather  the  curse  of  slavery  should 
be  perpetuated  than  that  the  price  of 
bonds  should  be  disturbed  by  agitation  ; 
they  would  rather  the  Irish  question 
should  go  unsettled  than  that  the  country 
should  pass  through  the  turmoil  of  a 
general  election.  Peace  at  any  price  is 
the  cry  of  these  men  ;  "  Keep  quiet,  and 
give  us  a  chance  to  make  money,"  is 
their  reply  to  every  appeal  for  aid  in  the 
struggle  against  wrong.  But  God  takes 
care  that  the  peace  which  selfishness  asks 
for  shall  never  come  ;  movement,  change, 
progress,  are  inevitable ;  and,  so  long  as 
the  world  stands,  these  things  and  the 
results  that  flow  from  them  will  baffle 
and  thwart  the  schemes  and  wishes  of 
those  who  want  the  quiet  road  to  a  low 
and  easy  success.  There  is  a  divine 
scorn  of  our  low  ideals  of  success  con 
tinually  manifested  in  the  almost  con 
temptuous  indifference  with  which  our 
carefully  elaborated  plans  are  brushed 
194 


Success  in  Failure 

aside  and  cast  ruthlessly  into  chaos. 
God  does  not  stop  to  explain  this  con 
stant  interference ;  the  rubbish  of  our 
mean  materialism  is  not  worthy  of  so 
much  notice.  The  scheme  that  would 
bring  us  a  fortune  without  work  and 
with  considerable  loss  of  honor  is  whirled 
out  of  sight  in  some  sudden  tempest  of 
change,  and  we  are  left  to  take  the  long, 
arduous  road  which  never  brings  us  to  the 
gold  we  once  craved,  but  which  teaches 
us  to  be  honest,  clean-hearted,  humble, 
patient,  and  noble.  In  place  of  the  poor 
material  success  that  would  have  made 
us  vulgar  and  small,  we  attain  a  strong 
and  permanent  development  of  character, 
an  understanding  of  life  beside  which 
Golconda  is  a  heap  of  rubbish,  and  a 
nobility  of  nature  beyond  price.  This 
is  the  only  real  success,  and  in  the  win 
ning  of  it  one  must  look  for  failures  of 
all  kinds. 

The  chief  value  of  a  great  and  pro 
longed  struggle  is   oftener  in  the  effort 
than    in   the   achievement.     The    great 
'95 


Works  and  Days 

charm  of  scholarship  is  in  the  scholar, 
and  not  in  his  acquirement ;  the  latter 
serves  noble  purposes,  but  its  finest  result 
is  the  man  himself.  The  noblest  out 
come  of  a  great  business  career  is  not  the 
fortune  which  rewards  it,  but  the  probity, 
sagacity,  far-sightedness,  and  mastery  of 
affairs  which  it  develops  in  the  merchant 
and  financier.  A  great  statesman  like 
Mr.  Gladstone  renders  services  to  his 
nation  and  to  civilization  of  quite  in 
calculable  value ;  but  to  Mr.  Gladstone 
himself  the  greatest  success  he  attains 
lies  in  the  achievement  of  his  character. 
The  other  successes  he  leaves  after  a 
little,  and  as  other  work  presses  upon 
other  men  the  splendor  of  his  perform 
ance  fades  into  past  history ;  but  the 
work  he  has  wrought  in  himself  abides 
as  his  permanent  possession.  It  can 
never  be  taken  from  him ;  it  is  his 
training  and  equipment  for  the  eternal 
hereafter. 

There    are   thousands    to    whom    the 
immediate    success   rarely    comes ;    they 
196 


Success  in  Failure 

are  met  by  constant  failure  and  disap 
pointment,  they  struggle  with  scant  re 
ward  and  scantier  recognition  from  the 
world.  The  sweets  of  success  are  never 
theirs ;  the  struggle,  the  labor,  and  the 
long-deferred  hope  are  their  daily  ex 
perience.  Such  men  need  not  miss  the 
crowning  of  life ;  it  may  be  theirs  to 
pluck  from  failure  the  immortal  flower 
of  noble  character. 


197 


GREATER   THAN   HEREDITY 

ONE  of  the  immediate  results  of 
modern  scientific  thought  is  the 
deepening  sense  of  the  power  of  heredity 
and  circumstances  over  individual  lives. 
There  is,  of  course,  an  immense  element 
of  truth  in  the  facts  which  science  has 
laid  bare  on  this  side  of  human  activity, 
and  in  the  inferences  which  have  been 
drawn  from  these  facts.  No  human 
being  is  independent  of  his  ancestry,  his 
race,  or  his  age.  They  supply  him  with 
the  tools  with  which  he  works  out  his 
destiny.  But  it  is  very  easy  to  over 
state  this  truth ;  and  it  is  constantly 
over-stated  in  current  literature.  This 
over-statement,  or,  perhaps  more  accu 
rately,  this  imperfect  statement,  of  the 
immense  force  of  heredity  and  surround 
ings  exerts  upon  many  minds  a  depress 
ing  and  paralyzing  influence.  The  man 
who  is  born  with  vicious  tendencies  in 
198 


Greater  than  Heredity 

his  blood,  or  the  man  who  finds  himself 
on  the  threshold  of  his  career  without 
the  training  which  other  men  have  re 
ceived,  often  feels  that  defeat  is  inevitable, 
and  ceases  to  make  any  struggle  against 
what  he  calls  destiny.  When  the  teach 
ings  of  science  are  interpreted  in  this  way, 
they  become  not  only  pernicious,  but 
absolutely  false.  Society  is  full  of  the 
refutations  of  any  such  conclusion  as 
this.  Men  have  risen  to  the  highest 
places  from  origins  and  influences  which 
seemed  specially  combined  to  chain  them 
down  forever.  The  artist  must  work  in 
the  material  which  he  finds  at  hand,  but 
his  conception  is  his  own  ;  and  that,  after 
all,  is  the  soul  of  his  work.  He  cannot 
choose  his  material,  but  he  can  always 
choose  the  use  he  will  make  of  it.  This 
is  the  very  citadel  of  manhood ;  when  it 
is  once  stormed  and  surrendered,  the 
man  may  continue  to  exist,  but  he  ceases 
to  live. 

Men  to-day  need  to  have  their  faith 
in  their  own  power  to  surmount  circum- 
199 


Works  and  Days 

stances  and  to  create  their  careers  strength 
ened  and  deepened.  In  order  that  they 
may  work  intelligently,  they  need  to 
understand  the  conditions  under  which 
they  are  compelled  to  work ;  they  need 
to  know  the  traits  they  have  inherited, 
and  they  need  to  discern  the  kind  of 
opportunities  at  hand  ;  but,  above  all, 
they  need  a  deeper  and  more  vital  con 
sciousness  that  they  themselves  are  greater 
than  either  inheritance  or  environment ; 
and  that  they  were  born,  not  to  be  made 
by  these,  but  to  modify  and  recast  them. 
Every  human  life  at  the  bottom  is  a 
revolt  against  its  environment ;  every 
great  reform  is  a  reaction  against  influ 
ences  that  are  at  the  moment  apparently 
irresistible ;  every  great  career  is  a  tre 
mendous  struggle  against  existing  things  ; 
and  yet  great  reforms  are  always  on  the 
way,  and  great  careers  are  always  being 
worked  out.  In  every  generation  there 
are  born  hosts  of  men  and  women  whose 
great  service  to  society  is  the  modification 
they  make  in  the  existing  order  of  things. 
200 


Greater  than  Heredity 

They  arrive  at  usefulness,  eminence,  and 
power  in  the  face  of  circumstances ;  and 
they  attain  these  things  by  virtue  of  the 
individual  force  which  lies  in  every 
human  soul.  No  man  is  relieved  from 
responsibility  because  of  that  which  his 
ancestors  have  transmitted  to  him,  or  be 
cause  his  own  age  is  inhospitable.  No 
man  ought  to  despair  because  he  is  be 
ginning  the  battle  against  odds.  Every 
man  who  makes  the  honest  endeavor  to 
live  his  own  life  sooner  or  later  strikes 
off  the  chains  that  bind  him,  and  in 
making  himself  free  becomes  a  liberating 
force  in  the  lives  of  others. 


201 


THE   SECRET   OF    FRESHNESS 

ONE  of  the  most  serious  losses  which 
befall  men  is  the  loss  of  freshness 
of  spirit  in  dealing  with  the  manifold 
relationships  and  duties  of  life.  With 
the  lapse  of  time  there  is  always  danger 
that  the  first  zest  and  zeal  will  pass,  and 
leave  us  servants  of  duty  or  slaves  of 
routine.  Joy  and  enthusiasm  fold  their 
wings,  and  we  walk  wearily  where  we  once 
passed  with  swift  and  victorious  move 
ment.  Our  business  becomes  drudgery, 
our  duties  onerous,  our  relations  of  af 
fection  lose  the  charm  of  sentiment. 
There  are  always  a  few  rare  natures  who 
escape  the  decay  which  despoils  the 
bloom  of  life,  and  carry  with  them  into 
noon  and  evening  the  freshness  and 
splendor  of  the  morning.  These  are,  by 
virtue  of  this  quality,  our  guides  and 
inspirers  ;  they  continually  renew  for  us 
and  in  us  the  early  vision,  the  pristine 
202 


The  Secret  of  Freshness 

beauty  of  living.  They  show  us  again 
the  loveliness  we  once  saw  in  the  flower, 
the  glory  we  once  saw  in  the  sky,  the 
dignity  and  nobility  which  life  wore  for 
us  before  care  and  selfishness  had  im 
paired  our  finer  perceptions. 

The  joy  which  such  natures  preserve 
for  themselves  and  others,  the  power  of 
impulse  toward  high  and  noble  living 
which  they  continually  generate,  do  not 
belong  by  nature  to  the  few ;  they  are 
universal  gifts,  within  the  reach  of  all 
who  will  put  out  a  hand  to  take  them. 

"  'Tis  heaven  alone  that  is  given  away, 

'Tis  only  God  may  be  had  for  the  asking." 

The  secret  of  perpetual  freshness  in  a 
human  soul,  of  renewing  life  each  day  in 
the  beauty  of  the  first  creation,  lies  in 
the  clear  and  permanent  perception  of  the 
great  spiritual  forces  and  truths  of  which 
all  visible  things  are  the  symbols  and 
revelation.  The  mother  ministers  to  her 
child  without  pause  or  rest;  the  long 
day  of  her  service  is  divided  by  no  swift- 
203 


Works  and  Days 

passing  hours,  and  broken  by  no  change 
of  morning  into  night,  or  night  into 
morning.  Head,  heart,  hands,  and  feet 
are  incessantly  taxed  to  care  for,  develop, 
and  direct  the  young  life.  There  are 
times  when  all  these  grow  weary  and 
would  fail  if  it  were  not  for  the  conscious 
ness,  kept  clear  and  luminous  by  love, 
of  the  inestimable  worth  of  the  growing 
soul  that  receives  all  this  as  its  right  and 
does  not  even  think  its  gratitude.  Every 
true  mother  understands  the  spiritual 
relationship  in  which  she  stands  to  the 
little  group  at  her  feet,  and  this  per 
ception  sheds  a  continual  radiance  about 
them  and  her. 

Not  less  deeply  and  fruitfully  are  we 
all  related  to  our  duties,  —  those  incessant 
demands  upon  our  life  which  at  times 
almost  drain  it  to  the  last  drop.  Met 
simply  from  a  sense  of  obligation,  with 
out  the  abiding  consciousness  of  their 
spiritual  significance,  they  deplete  and  ex 
haust  us  ;  but  met  with  the  clear  insight 
which  discerns  the  growing  purpose  of 
204 


The  Secret  of  Freshness 

God  behind  them,  they  become  trans 
formed  and  radiant  with  prophecy  and 
promise;  the  drudgery  of  the  day. is  no 
longer  drudgery  when  one  sees  in  it  the 
slow  unfolding  of  a  great  new  thought 
for  one's  life. 

In  all  our  relations  with  the  men  and 
women  about  us  there  are  the  same  ten 
dency  to  weariness  and  the  same  remedy 
for  it.  In  the  privacy  of  the  home  there 
are,  year  in  and  out,  the  same  faces, 
names,  voices,  duties,  occupation  ;  there  is 
a  routine  which  conceals  and  at  times  al 
most  buries  the  deep  and  beautiful  ties 
that  have  made  the  family  imperishable 
and  invulnerable  amid  the  vicissitudes 
of  civilization.  They  only  know  the 
joys  which  make  these  relations  wells  of 
inspiration  and  happiness  along  die  jour 
ney  of  life  who  hold  in  clear  view  the 
rich  spiritual  relationships  of  which  the 
family  ties  are  a  perpetual  and  beauti 
ful  revelation,  a  parable  repeated  from 
generation  to  generation  with  ever-deep 
ening  meaning. 

205 


Works  and  Days 

Spiritual  strength  is  the  only  real 
strength,  because  it  alone  is  capable  of 
infinite  renewal ;  and  in  the  possession 
of  this  strength  lies  the  secret  of  that 
freshness  of  sentiment  and  zeal  which, 
like  dew  from  heaven,  revives  the  rarest 
flowers  along  the  path  of  life  and  renews 
day  by  day  the  beauty  and  fragrance  of 
their  earliest  blooming. 


a  06 


PATIENCE   WITH    OURSELVES 

IT  is  sound  instinct  which  keeps  alive 
so  well  worn  a  story  as  that  of  Bruce 
and  the  spider,  —  the  unconquerable  in 
stinct  deep  in  every  man  and  woman  to 
triumph  over  obstacles,  and  to  express 
personality  in  positive  achievement.  The 
story  of  success  in  the  face  of  constant 
and  long-repeated  failure  is  a  familiar  one, 
—  a  story  told  in  lives  as  illustrious  as 
those  of  Lord  Nelson  and  Richard  Wag 
ner,  and  in  a  thousand  lives  of  which 
no  public  record  is  made.  Patience  in 
dealing  with  untoward  circumstances  and 
overcoming  objective  difficulties  is  a  qual 
ity  which  not  only  has  the  honor  of  all 
men,  but  which  brings  a  certain  reward 
as  the  struggle  goes  on.  There  is  an 
other  kind  of  patience,  however,  much 
more  difficult  to  acquire,  and  not  so 
clearly  seen  and  honored,  —  the  patience 
207 


Works  and  Days 

demanded  of  a  man  by  himself. 
a  man  who  has  great  power  of  persistence 
in  matching  himself  against  outward 
obstacles  feels  constantly  depressed  and 
discouraged  when  he  faces  his  own  nature 
and  recognizes  the  return  of  faults  and 
tendencies  and  weaknesses  which  he 
hoped  he  had  overcome  and  cast  out. 
No  problem  is  so  exacting  or  demands 
for  its  solution  such  infinite  patience  and 
persistence  as  that  which  is  presented  to 
a  man  by  himself.  V 

If  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  were  re 
vealed,  it  would  be  found  that  hosts  of 
men  give  up  the  struggle  with  themselves 
because  they  have  not  sufficient  patience 
with  themselves.  They  become  disheart 
ened  by  their  failure  to  subdue  obvious 
faults  and  to  cast  out  evil  tendencies. 
It  is  the  broken  resolution,  the  deserted 
position,  the  infidelity  to  a  clearly  defined 
purpose,  the  unexpected  return  of  the 
old  temptation  in  its  old  force  that  take 
the  life  and  courage  out  of  a  great  many 
men.  It  seems  as  if  no  progress  were 
208 


Patience  with  Ourselves 

being  made,  as  if  the  battle  were  an 
endless  round,  without  issue  and  without 
decision.  t^And  as  there  is  no  struggle  so 
severe  and  exacting  as  that  which  a  man 
has  to  make  with  himself,  so  there  is  no 
victory  so  noble  as  that  which  a  man 
wins  over  himself;  for  the  fact  of  struggle 
carries  with  it  the  possibility  of  victory. 
The  spider,  reweaving  his  shattered  web 
for  the  twentieth  time,  follows  an  instinct 
which  those  who  believe  in  the  presence 
of  God  in  the  world  believe  to  be  divine. 
vThe  man  who  rebuilds  for  the  hundredth 
time  his  shattered  purpose  and  reburn- 
ishes  his  tarnished  ideal  obeys  an  instinct 
from  God  and  may  count  on  God's  help, 
in  so  far  as  his  struggle  is  a  sincere  one. 
The  severity  of  the  struggle  and  its  du 
ration  prophesy  the  permanency  of  the 
victory  when  it  is  at  last  won,  as  a  long 
and  exacting  process  of  education  implies 
a  very  high  and  unusual  degree  of  pro 
ficiency  as  its  reward.  Nothing  is  more 
difficult  than  to  reform  character ;  but 
nothing  is  so  permanent  as  character 
14  209 


Works  and  Days 

when  it  is  reformed.  The  inner  struggle 
which  gives  life  its  tremendous  meaning 
and  its  dramatic  interest  is  not  only  to 
the  strong,  the  brilliant,  and  the  versa 
tile  ;  it  is  more  often  to  those  who  bear 
patiently  with  their  own  weaknesses,  and 
by  patience  with  themselves  secure  the 
eternal  victory,  v 


210 


GIVE   AND   TAKE 

PEOPLE  of  great  strength  of  char 
acter  are  often  very  difficult  to 
live  with.  They  are  to  be  depended 
upon  in  storms,  but  they  are  disagreeable 
in  calm  weather.  No  one  will  under 
estimate  the  value  of  those  fundamental 
qualities  of  character  upon  which  alone  a 
genuine  life  or  a  sound  and  noble  relation 
ship  of  any  sort  is  built ;  but  there  is  a 
great  deal  more  of  life  than  the  founda 
tions  ;  there  is  a  whole  superstructure 
of  intercourse,  relationship,  emotions, 
recreation,  and  fellowship,  and  these 
varied  and  in  a  sense  lighter  things  are 
really  not  less  important  than  the  graver 
things.  Many  a  man  who  would  go  to 
the  stake  rather  than  be  guilty  of  any 
act  of  dishonor  does  not  hesitate  to  cru 
cify  those  who  are  nearest  him  by  unre 
strained  temper;  many  a  woman  capable 
of  the  highest  acts  of  self-denial  feels. 

211 


Works  and  Days 

herself  under  no  obligation  to  control  a 
tendency  to  irritability.  But  irritability 
may  destroy  the  entire  charm  of  associa 
tion  with  the  most  gifted  person,  and  un- 
governed  temper  has  probably  involved 
as  much  evil  to  the  world  in  the  long  run 
as  the  direct  temptations  to  sin.  A  great 
many  men  and  women  live  as  if  there 
were  no  such  things  as  differences  of 
temperament ;  they  never  take  into  con 
sideration  the  moods  of  those  with  whom 
they  deal,  nor  do  they  ever  remember 
that  they  have  moods  of  their  own ;  and 
yet  moods  have  as  much  to  do  with 
making  the  aspect  of  life  from  day  to 
day  as  the  atmosphere  has  to  do  with  the 
changing  effects  of  the  landscape.  There 
are  people  to  whom  the  world  is  one  day 
brilliant  with  sunshine  and  the  next 
sombre  with  shadows,  and  it  is  as  absurd 
to  ignore  this  difference  as  to  ignore  the 
changes  of  weather.  The  ability  to 
communicate  happiness  and  to  aid  others 
lies  largely  in  the  power  of  adaptation, 
in  the  keen  perception  of  the  tempera- 

212 


Give  and  Take 

ment  and  peculiarities  of  another,  and  in 
delicate  consideration  for  temperament 
and  quality  4/  There  is  nothing  more  in 
tangible  than  the  sensitiveness  of  a  child, 
and  yet  there  are  very  few  things  more 
important.  The  future  happiness  and 
success  of  the  child  depend  largely  on 
the  manner  in  which  that  sensitiveness  is 
treated  by  those  who  stand  nearest  to  it. 
Many  a  fine  nature  is  spoiled  by  the 
clumsy  or  brutal  hands  of  those  who 
wreck  it  as  ruthlessly  as  the  hoof  of  a 
horse  tramples  on  a  rose,  and  yet  whom 
nothing  would  tempt  to  commit  any 
moral  wrong  against  the  child.  /We  all 
demand  much  for  ourselves  from  others  ; 
let  us  be  careful  that  we  honor  the 
demands  of  others  upon  ourselves. 


213 


WORK   THAT   NOURISHES 

ONE  of  the  secrets  of  a  life  of 
growing  power  is  to  be  nourished 
rather  than  depleted  by  one's  work. 
Activity  is  healthful ;  strain  is  harmful. 
Men  do  not  die  of  overwork,  but  of 
maladjustment  to  the  conditions  of  their 
work ;  for  under  ripe  conditions  work 
develops  just  as  truly  as  exercise,  but 
under  wrong  conditions  it  depletes  and 
destroys.  The  great  workers  of  the 
world  have  accumulated  force  rather 
than  parted  with  it,  and  have  gathered 
richness  of  material  and  power  of  action 
by  the  putting  forth  of  their  energies ; 
so  that  their  lives  have  moved  toward 
culmination  rather  than  come  to  an  early 
fruition  followed  by  a  long  decline.  It 
is  easy  to  detect  the  difference  between 
the  man  who  is  fed  by  his  work  and  the 
man  who  is  drained  by  it.  There  is  an 
214 


Work  that  Nourishes 

ease,  a  force,  and  a  zest  about  the  work 
that  nourishes  which  is  never  long  char 
acteristic  of  the  work  that  depletes ;  for 
the  essential  of  the  work  which  nourishes 
is  its  free  and  unimpeded  expression  of 
the  personality  of  the  worker.  It  is  the 
overflow  of  his  own  personal  energy,  and 
not  the  strenuous  putting  forth  of  toil 
some  effort.  It  is  significant  that  the 
great  artists,  as  a  rule,  are  immensely 
productive.  Michael  Angelo,  Raphael, 
Rubens,  Shakespeare,  Scott,  and  men 
of  their  class,  attest  their  genius  not  only 
by  the  quality  of  their  work  but  by  its 
quantity  also.  This  means  that  they 
have  secured  the  right  adjustment  to 
their  conditions,  and  that  work,  instead 
of  being  a  drain,  nourishes  and  develops 
the  worker.  The  man  who  works  with 
delight  and  ease  grows  by  means  of  his 
activity,  and  the  first  secret  to  be  learned 
in  order  to  rid  work  of  worry  and  wear  is 
to  take  it  in  a  reposeful  spirit,  to  refuse  to 
be  hurried,  to  exchange  the  sense  of  being 
mastered  by  one's  occupation  for  the 


Works  and  Days 

consciousness  of  mastery.  To  take  work 
easily  and  quietly,  not  because  one  is  in 
different  to  it,  but  because  one  is  fully 
equal  to  it,  is  to  take  the  first  step 
towards  turning  work  into  play. 


216 


NOT   GETTING   BUT   GIVING 

WITH  some  exceptions  due  to 
special  conditions,  we  ordinarily 
get  what  we  deserve  from  our  friends 
and  from  society ;  it  is  idle  to  charge 
upon  others  results  due  to  our  own 
limitations.  Men  will  listen  to  the  man 
who  has  something  to  say  worth  saying, 
and  will  honor  and  love  the  man  who  is 
worthy  of  honor  and  love.  If  society 
remains  finally  indifferent  to  claims  made 
upon  its  attention,  it  is  because  those 
claims  are  not  well  founded.  There  is 
a  constant  tendency  to  shift  upon  others 
the  responsibility  which  belongs  to  our 
selves,  and  there  are  many  people  who 
cherish  a  grievance  against  their  fellows 
because  they  are  not  taken  at  their  own 
valuation.  The  public  is  accused  of 
stupidity  because  it  fails  to  recognize  the 
political  genius  which  some  man  finds  in 
217 


Works  and  Days 

himself;  editors  are  charged  with  prej 
udice  and  partiality  because  they  do  not 
open  their  columns  to  contributors  whose 
faith  in  their  own  gifts  is  independent  of 
all  confirmation  from  the  opinions  of 
others ;  congregations  are  declared  to  be 
cold  and  unresponsive  because  they  do 
not  kindle  to  an  eloquence  which  some 
how  evaporates  between  the  pulpit  and 
the  pew ;  friends  are  held  to  be  in 
different  because  they  do  not  pour  out 
confidences  which  can  never  be  forced, 
but  which  flow  freely  only  when  they 
are  drawn  out  by  the  subtle  sympathy 
of  kinship  of  nature.  It  is  a  false  attitude 
which  prompts  us  to  be  always  demand 
ing,  and  it  defeats  itself;  we  ought, 
rather,  to  be  always  giving.  Our  friends 
are  powerless  to  bestow  the  confidence 
which  does  not  instinctively  flow  to  us, 
or  to  disclose  to  us  those  aspects  of  their 
lives  which  are  not  unconsciously  turned 
to  us.  Friendship  is  a  very  delicate  and 
sensitive  relation,  and  it  is  absurd  to 
demand  from  it  that  which  it  does  not 
218 


Not  Getting  but  Giving 

freely  give.  We  draw  from  a  friend 
precisely  that  which  we  have  the  power 
to  understand  and  enter  into ;  we  are 
shut  out  from  the  things  which  are  not 
naturally  our  own.  If  society  does  not 
give  us  what  we  crave,  and  our  friends 
do  not  open  to  us  doors  which  stand 
wide  to  others,  instead  of  indicting 
others  let  us  look  well  to  ourselves. 
If  we  find  ourselves  losing  in  strength 
of  position  and  influence,  it  will  appear, 
if  we  search  ourselves,  that  we  are  not 
keeping  pace  with  the  growth  of  those 
around  us,  and  that  we  are  losing  ground 
in  the  world  because  we  are  losing  force 
in  ourselves.  The  whole  attitude  of 
those  who  are  continually  measuring  the 
returns  made  to  them  by  society  and 
friends  is  pernicious  ;%e  are  here  to  give, 
not  to  get ;  and  they  who  give  largely 
receive  largely^/ 


219 


STRENGTH    OUT   OF 
WEAKNESS 

THERE  are  few  things  so  difficult 
to  bear  as  the  consciousness  of 
weakness.  It  is  easy  to  struggle  against 
our  faults  so  long  as  they  spring  from 
some  kind  of  vigor,  and  we  are  always 
lenient  with  ourselves  in  dealing  with 
those  offences  which  have  their  root  in 
energy  of  nature.  These  faults  do  not 
discourage  us,  because  we  recognize  in 
them  a  misdirected  force,  and  we  have 
faith  in  our  power  to  give  that  force  new 
and  wiser  direction ;  but  the  conscious 
ness  of  weakness  brings  a  profound  sense 
of  discouragement.  It  involves  the  rec 
ognition  of  a  real  defect  in  character, 
and  it  carries  with  it  a  sense  of  uncer 
tainty  with  regard  to  the  future.  The 
man  of  strong  will  has  the  consciousness 
that  the  strength  which  has  been  mis- 

220 


Strength  out  of  Weakness 

guided  may  itself  become  a  contributing 
force  to  the  reorganization  of  his  life, 
but  the  man  of  weak  will  knows  that  he 
has  to  struggle  against  a  fundamental 
defect.  For  the  weak,  however,  as  for 
the  strong,  there  is  the  same  law  of  com 
pensation,  —  the  law  under  which  every 
possible  defect  and  weakness  may  be 
made  a  source  of  strength.  To  be  con 
scious  of  one's  weakness  is  to  put  one's 
self  in  the  way  of  receiving  that  which 
one  lacks ;  for  the  consciousness  of 
weakness,  if  acted  upon,  means  steady 
protection  of  ourselves  against  the  temp 
tations  which  overcome  us,  and  in  that 
very  act  the  creation  of  a  new  kind  of 
strength.  The  real  measure  of  character 
is  the  amount  of  moral  force  produced 
rather  than  the  moral  achievement  made. 
There  are  men  of  fundamental  weakness 
who,  in  the  struggle  to  right  themselves, 
put  forth  an  immense  moral  force,  and 
by  that  very  fact,  although  to  others 
they  seem  to  achieve  little,  they  lift 
themselves  out  of  their  weakness  into 

221 


Works  and  Days 

strength.  The  first  step  toward  strength 
is  the  consciousness  of  weakness.  If 
that  consciousness  be  acted  upon,  as  it 
may  be  even  by  the  weakest,  then  what 
was  weakness  begins  to  give  way  to  a 
new-born  strength,  and  out  of  the  very 
quality  which  promised  to  destroy  the 
hope  of  achievement  often  comes  that 
moral  virility  which  makes  the  very 
highest  achievements  possible.  It  was 
the  hand  which  signed  the  recantation 
that  Cranmer  held  in  the  flames  that  it 
might  be  burned  first. 


222 


WAITING 

WAITING  for  one's  chance  in  life 
is  neither  exhilarating  nor  in 
spiring,  but  it  is  a  much  more  com 
mon  experience  than  most  men  suspect. 
Nothing  is  so  deceptive  to  the  man  who 
has  not  yet  found  his  place  as  the  ap 
parently  universal  success  of  the  men 
around  him ;  he  seems  solitary  and 
alone, —  an  exception  to  the  universal 
law ;  he  is  stranded  while  all  other  men 
are  being  borne  forward  by  an  ample 
tide  of  prosperity.  But  the  waiting 
man  has  a  great  deal  more  companion 
ship  than  he  suspects ;  almost  every  one 
of  the  men  whose  careers  fill  him  with  a 
sort  of  envy  has  gone  through  the  period 
through  which  he  is  now  passing,  and 
which  he  finds  extremely  painful  and  de 
pressing.  Very  few  men  make  a  sym 
metrical  race  of  life;  they  do  not  begin  at 
the  start  and  run  steadily  to  the  goal; 
223 


Works  and  Days 

there  are  pauses,  interruptions,  uncertain 
ties  in  the  case  of  almost  every  runner 
before  he  really  gets  into  the  heat  of  the 
contest  and  begins  to  take  the  lead.  And 
these  are  generally  not  to  be  regretted. 
Many  a  man  looks  back  upon  apparent 
losses  of  time  and  strength  in  after  years 
and  sees  that,  in  his  hour  of  uncertainty 
and  waiting,  there  were  developed  in  him 
an  endurance,  a  definiteness  of  aim,  and 
a  patience  which  have  contributed  largely, 
often  vitally,  to  his  later  success. 

Most  young  men,  and  especially  young 
men  of  ample  endowments  of  nature  and 
mind,  pass  through  this  period  of  un 
certainty.  They  are  eager  to  enrol 
themselves  in  the  great  army  of  workers, 
but  they  are  not  quite  sure  to  which 
branch  of  the  service  they  belong. 
While  other  men  are  marching  past 
with  flying  colors,  they  are  compelled 
to  stand  idly  by.  Many  a  young  man 
feels  at  such  a  moment  as  if  life  had 
deceived  him,  and  he  in  turn  had  de 
ceived  himself  and  his  friends.  The 
224 


Waiting 

passing  hour  seems  to  him  an  eternal 
condition ;  the  momentary  uncertainty 
a  permanent  disability.  Such  a  mood 
is  the  only  dangerous  thing  about  this 
trying  experience.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  fact  of  being  compelled  to  wait  for 
one's  opportunity,  nothing  in  the  fact  of 
being  undecided  at  the  first  as  to  one's 
life  work,  which  should  fill  any  man  with 
disappointment.  He  has  only  to  go  to 
the  successful  men  around  him,  and 
secure  their  confidence,  to  find  that  his 
experience  is  simply  a  repetition  of  theirs. 
The  only  danger  comes  from  the  begin 
nings  of  despair ;  a  despair  which  some 
times  takes  the  most  tragic  forms,  and 
sometimes  creates  a  permanent  disbelief 
in  one's  ability  to  attain  the  highest  and 
best  things.  The  young  man  who  was 
compelled,  on  the  eve  of  knighthood,  to 
spend  a  solitary  night  within  chapel 
walls,  used  those  hours  of  isolation  for 
the  purification  of  his  own  soul  in  order 
that  he  might  more  successfully  uphold 
the  right  and  destroy  the  wrong.  So 
15  225 


Works  and  Days 

every  young  man  passing  through  the 
painful  experience  of  uncertainty  and 
waiting  may  find  in  it  a  surer  knowledge 
of  himself,  and  a  stronger  grasp  on  the 
certainties  of  life. 


226 


A   BEAUTIFUL  TALENT 

THERE  are  two  maxims  of  Goethe's 
which  contain  the  pure  gold  of 
truth  in  one  of  the  most  trying  relations 
of  life,  —  our  relation  to  those  who  are 
developing  gifts  and  capacities  above  us : 
"  Against  the  great  superiority  of  another 
there  is  no  remedy  but  love ; "  and  "  To 
praise  a  man  is  to  put  one's  self  on 
his  level."  In  these  brief  and  pithy  say 
ings  is  contained  the  whole  philosophy 
of  a  noble  attitude  towards  superiority 
of  all  kinds.  There  are  many  who  can 
not  meet  the  test  of  having  friends  and 
associates  pass  them  in  the  race  by  force 
of  greater  gifts,  and  who  note  the  devel 
opment  of  talent  in  others,  if  not  with 
envy,  at  least  with  coldness  and  silence. 
In  such  an  attitude  there  is  not  only  a 
confession  of  defeat,  but  the  loss  of  a 
great  opportunity,  —  the  loss  that  is 
always  coming  to  the  egotist.  A  gift 
227 


Works  and  Days 

of  any  kind  is  a  resource  added  to  life, 
a  new  contribution  to  the  capital  which 
makes  society  rich.  The  right-minded 
man  rejoices  when  the  common  wealth 
increases,  and  finds  delight  in  the  work 
which  brings  in  the  added  riches ;  the 
fact  that  he  lives  in  a  modest  house 
makes  him  all  the  more  appreciative  of 
the  general  beauty  of  the  metropolis  in 
which  he  is  a  citizen.  Moreover,  as 
Goethe  suggests,  we  share  in  great  gifts 
by  recognizing  and  honoring  them.  To 
keep  Shakespeare  a  closed  volume  be 
cause  we  envy  his  marvellous  power  is 
not  to  harm  Shakespeare  but  to  impov 
erish  ourselves  ;  to  take  delight  in  Shake 
speare  is  to  partake  of  his  genius  and 
put  ourselves  on  his  level.  In  like 
manner,  to  be  the  first  to  recognize  a 
dawning  superiority  in  some  one  who 
stands  near  us  is  not  only  to  give  our 
own  nature  a  beautiful  and  worthy  ex 
pression,  but  to  share  in  the  develop 
ment  of  a  new  and  inspiring  gift.  The 
power  of  appreciation  is  itself  a  beautiful 
228 


A  Beautiful  Talent 

gift,  and  its  culture  means  the  possession 
of  a  talent  as  generous  as  it  is  beautiful. 
To  possess  it  is  to  drive  out  the  shadow 
of  envy,  and  to  give  swift  hospitality  to 
truth  and  beauty.  We  reveal  our  own 
natures  by  our  attitude  towards  superior 
ity  in  others. 


229 


THE   SUPREME   SERVICE 

ONE  of  the  heresies  which  mislead  us 
is  the  belief  that  we  are  useful  only 
when  we  are  actually  doing  something 
with  our  hands  and  feet.  The  word  "  do 
ing"  is  underscored  in  almost  every  man's 
practical  philosophy  of  life ;  the  word 
"being"  is  generally  written  in  small 
characters.  No  wise  man  will  underrate 
the  importance  of  activity,  because  every 
such  man  understands  that  there  can  be 
no  real  life  which  does  not  bear  fruitage. 
But  the  tree  does  not  live  consciously 
for  the  sake  of  bearing  fruit ;  the  fruit  is 
the  overflow  of  its  vitality.  We  ought 
to  live  in  the  same  fashion.  Our  chief 
concern  ought  to  be  to  live  deeply,  richly, 
and  nobly,  and  then  activity  will  take 
care  of  itself.  No  one  can  make  the 
word  "  being"  full  of  depth  and  meaning 
without  also  giving  new  depth  and  mean 
ing  to  the  word  "doing."  To  be  great 
230 


The  Supreme  Service 

implies  the  doing  of  great  things,  but 
no  man  becomes  great  by  an  activity 
outside  of  himself;  he  is,  first  of  all, 
great  in  himself,  and  his  activity  is  simply 
a  revelation  of  his  greatness.  The  first 
concern  of  us  all  is  to  be  noble.  The 
idea  that  activity  is  the  only  measure  of 
usefulness  constantly  misleads  superficial 
people  who  are  continually  doing  things 
with  very  little  thought  and  very  little 
spiritual  force,  into  the  belief  that  they 
are  attaining  great  spiritual  growth ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  constantly 
misleads  people  who  have  small  strength 
or  small  opportunities,  and  who  can  do 
but  little  with  their  hands  and  feet,  into 
the  belief  that  they  are  of  very  little  use 
in  life.  The  real  measure  of  greatness  is 
always  an  inward  and  spiritual  measure. 
It  is  a  test  which  cannot  be  evaded, 
which  dissipates  false  standards  and  con 
ventions  like  the  mist,  and  gets  at  the 
very  heart  of  character.  The  greatest 
service  which  any  of  us  can  render  to 
our  fellows  is,  first  and  foremost,  to  be 
231 


Works  and  Days 

so  evidently  strong,  earnest,  and  cheerful 
that  the  discouraged  take  a  new  lease  of 
hope  from  us,  the  doubtful  secure  a  new 
vision  of  faith,  and  those  who  have  fallen 
a  new  impulse  to  get  on  their  feet  again. 
It  is  of  infinitely  more  importance  to-day 
to  pour  a  new  tide  of  victorious  faith  and 
hope  and  strength  into  the  souls  of  men 
than  to  do  anything,  anywhere.  Beside 
this  supreme  service  of  feeding  the  spirit 
ual  life  of  the  world,  all  doing,  however 
magnificent,  is  comparatively  insignifi 
cant.  The  greatest  servants  of  humanity 
are  those  who,  by  embodying  a  noble 
ideal  of  life,  constantly  reinforce  the  faith 
of  those  who  are  feebler  in  the  possibility 
of  such  a  life,  reconcile  them  to  the  hard 
conditions  of  their  own  existence,  and 
inspire  them  with  a  faith  which  of  them 
selves  they  could  not  achieve. 


232 


LIVE   IN    TO-DAY 

THERE  is  no  illusion  so  insidious 
and  persistent  as  that  which  intro 
duces  into  the  future  some  element  of  luck, 
which  stores  up  for  us  in  the  time  to  come 
something  which  we  have  not  secured  for 
ourselves.  We  are  always  dreaming  of 
having  more  time  in  the  future,  and  of 
doing  things  with  a  strong  hand  in  con 
sequence  ;  to-day  we  have  but  fifteen 
minutes,  and  what  can  be  made  of  such 
a  fragment  of  time  ?  Next  year  we  shall 
have  hours,  and  then  we  will  read  the 
new  books,  learn  the  languages  we  need 
to  possess,  accomplish  the  larger  tasks 
of  which  we  dream.  But  the  hours 
never  come,  and  the  achievements  are 
made,  if  they  are  made  at  all,  in  these 
odds  and  ends  of  time  that  come  to  us 
by  the  way.  The  wise  man  is  he  who 
knows  the  value  of  to-day ;  he  who  can 
estimate  to-day  rightly  may  leave  the 
233 


Works  and  Days 

future  to  take  care  of  itself.  For  the 
value  of  the  future  depends  entirely  upon 
the  value  attached  to  to-day ;  there  is  no 
magic  in  the  years  to  come  ;  nothing  can 
bloom  in  those  fairer  fields  save  that 
which  is  sown  to-day.  yThe  great  aim 
of  Christianity  is  not  to  teach  men  the 
glory  of  the  life  to  come,  but  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  life  that  now  is  ;  not  to  make 
men  imagine  the  beauty  of  heaven,  but 
to  make  them  realize  the  divinity  of 
earth  ;  not  to  unveil  the  splendor  of  the 
Almighty,  enthroned  among  angels,  but 
to  reveal  deity  in  the  Man  of  Nazareth. 
He  has  mastered  the  secret  of  life  who 
has  learned  the  value  of  the  present  mo 
ment,  who  sees  the  beauty  of  present 
surroundings,  and  who  recognizes  the 
possibilities  of  sainthood  in  his  neigh 
bors.  To  make  the  most  and  the  best 
out  of  to-day  is  to  command  the  highest 
resources  of  the  future.  For  there  is  no 
future  outside  of  us ;  it  lies  within  us, 
and  we  make  it  for  ourselves.  The 
heaven  of  the  future,  and  the  hell  also, 
234 


Live  in  To-Day 

are  in  the  germ  in  every  human  soul ; 
and  no  man  is  appointed  to  one  or  the 
other,  for  each  appoints  himself.  To 
value  to-day,  to  honor  this  life,  to  glorify 
humanity  is  to  prepare  for  eternity,  to 
seek  the  eternal  life,  and  to  worship  God. 
The  harvest  of  the  future  is  but  the 
golden  ripening  of  to-day's  sowing. 


235 


A  HINT  FROM  A  POEM 

IN  Browning's  "  Saul,"  one  of  the 
great  poems  of  recent  times,  there  is 
a  fine  prophetic  motive  which  gradually 
develops  and  becomes  clearer  until  it  is 
seen  to  be  the  dominant  note  of  the 
poem.  The  simple  shepherd,  beginning 
his  song  with  the  most  familiar  things 
in  order  to  distract  the  melancholy 
king,  is  led  on  slowly,  from  strain  to 
strain,  the  music  deepening  and  widen 
ing  almost  unconsciously  until  it  bursts 
into  the  splendid  psalm  of  prophecy  ; 
then  one  becomes  suddenly  aware  that 
this  profounder  music  was  latent  in  the 
earliest  and  simplest  notes,  and  that  it 
is  this  deep  harmony  which  imparts  a 
thrilling  meaning  to  the  whole.  The 
poem  is  a  beautiful  parable  of  every  true 
human  life;  a  parable  which  becomes 
more  clear  and  true  the  more  deeply 
we  study  it  and  the  more  thoroughly 
236 


A  Hint  from  a  Poem 

we  understand  our  own  lives.  Every 
human  life  begins  in  association  with  the 
most  familiar  and,  apparently,  the  most 
trivial  things.  All  its  earlier  activity  is 
mere  play ;  but  from  the  first  hour  its 
little  life,  like  a  stream  flowing  seaward, 
deepens  and  broadens ;  the  play  becomes 
educational ;  the  instincts  are  gradually 
turned  into  intelligence ;  familiar  and 
obvious  things  become  new  and  strange 
because  seen  through  fresh  experience ; 
finally  play  becomes  work,  but  work 
which  has  still  the  element  of  play  in  it 
because  of  the  spontaneity  and  freshness 
of  youth ;  then  come  the  strain,  the 
responsibilities,  the  strenuous  and  un 
broken  toil  of  maturity.  The  mere 
thoughtless  joy  of  purely  physical  vital 
ity  has  gone  out  of  it ;  pressure  and 
gain,  great  cares  and  heavy  burdens  have 
come  into  it.  The  earlier  and  melo 
dious  notes  are  no  longer  heard.  But 
if  life  has  been  taken  seriously  and 
earnestly,  the  first  melody  has  given 
place  to  an  ever-deepening  harmony ; 
237 


Works  and  Days 

living  becomes  more  solemn  and  awful, 
not  because  so  much  has  been  lost,  but 
because  its  possibilities  are  seen  to  be  so 
measureless.  And  now,  if  one  has  ears 
to  hear  and  eyes  to  see,  the  prophetic 
element  becomes  more  and  more  definite. 
It  is  no  longer  time  in  which  a  man 
is  working  when  this  deeper  harmony 
sounds  in  his  heart ;  it  is  eternity.  As 
he  looks  back  he  sees  clearly  that  from 
the  first  careless  playtime  of  childhood 
this  deeper  music  has  always  been  latent, 
these  profounder  notes  have  formed  an 
undertone  which  has  at  last  become,  not 
only  audible,  but  dominant.  There  are 
times  when  it  would  be  pleasant  to  es 
cape  the  solemnity  of  life ;  when  we 
should  delight  to  recall,  if  we  could,  the 
simple  joy  and  pleasure  of  childhood, 
with  its  near  hopes,  and  its  immediate 
aims.  But  since  this  is  no  longer  pos 
sible,  even  if  it  were  wise,  why  not  take 
the  profound  and  sustaining  joy  which 
comes  with  the  deeper  truth,  constantly 
breaking  into  the  consciousness  through 
238 


A  Hint  from  a  Poem 

all  our  experience,  that  this  hard  and  at 
times  terrible  education  is  the  preparation 
for  something  greater  than  we  had  ever 
thought  of,  the  glory  of  which  would 
blind  us  if  it  were  to  break  upon  us  ? 
We  began,  like  David,  with  the  song  of 
the  water  bubbling  in  the  brook,  and  the 
wind  playing  on  the  grass,  and  the  sheep 
browsing  on  the  hills ;  let  us  end,  like 
his  song,  with  the  sublime  vision  of  a 
life  redeemed  and  purified,  —  a  life  typi 
fied  by  the  Christ. 


»39 


THE   CORRUPTION   OF 
SELF-PITY 

SELF-PITY  is  the  most  elusive  and 
deceptive  form  of  selfishness ;  it  be 
guiles  the  most  acute  mind  which  yields 
to  it,  and  disintegrates  the  clearest  judg 
ment  if  it  becomes  a  habit.  It  is  a  kind 
of  sentimentalism  which  finds  its  food  in 
our  vanity  and  grows  by  what  it  feeds 
on.*^  It  seems  like  a  consolation  for  our 
mistakes  and  misfortunes,  but  it  really  is 
an  anodyne  which  protects  us  from  a 
pain  that  is  essential  to  health.  •"  When 
we  blunder  and  fail,  we  ought  to  suffer, 
since  suffering  puts  us  on  the  road  to  a 
recovery  of  what  we  have  lost,  or  to  the 
conquest  of  that  which  we  have  not  had 
the  strength  to  grasp.  What  we  need 
is  the  tonic  of  a  relentlessly  honest  deal 
ing  with  ourselves.  If  we  have  been 
weak,  small,  mean,  we  need  to  know  our 
defects  and  call  them  by  names  that  ac- 
240 


The  Corruption  of  Self-Pity 

curately  describe  them.  If  we  have  not 
secured  the  approbation  we  crave,  we 
ought,  for  character's  sake,  frankly  and 
fully  to  accept  the  fact  that  we  have 
missed  the  approbation  because  we  have 
not  done  the  work  that  would  have  won 
it.  If  we  deal  with  ourselves  in  this 
spirit,  we  pay  ourselves  the  highest  re 
spect  and  put  ourselves  in  the  way  of 
being  worthy  of  it. 

Too  many  of  us  do  nothing  of  the 
kind.  We  begin  to  pity  ourselves,  to 
look  upon  others  as  ungenerous  and  un 
sympathetic,  to  lay  the  responsibility  for 
our  failures  on  some  person  or  circum 
stance.  We  soon  come  to  think  of  our 
selves  as  martyrs  and  victims ;  we  build 
up  a  fictitious  character  for  ourselves ; 
we  create  unreal  sorrows  and  bear  unreal 
wrongs.  We  end  by  corrupting  and  de 
bilitating  ourselves  to  such  a  degree  that 
we  cease  to  have  a  clear  vision,  a  truth 
ful  tongue,  or  a  loyal  heart.  ^To  put 
the  result  of  a  course  of  self-pity  in  plain 
speech :  we  deceive  ourselves  so  long 
16  241 


Works  and  Days 

and  so  persistently  that  we  become 
chronic  liars  to  ourselves  and  chronic 
slanderers  of  others ;  and  it  is  an  awful 
thing  to  become  an  incarnate  lie  in  a 
universe  which  is  relentlessly  truthful. 


242 


THE    REAL   POWER   IN    LIFE 

THERE  is  no  mechanism  so  delicate 
as  the  adjustment  of  forces  which 
make  up  a  human  life.  The  most  ex 
quisite  mechanical  adaptations  represent 
but  grossly  the  fineness  of  moral,  intel 
lectual,  and  physical  adjustments  which 
are  ultimately  secured  in  every  human 
life.  If  we  could  only  realize  for  one 
hour  how  subtle,  manifold,  and  exacting 
are  the  influences  which  shape  us,  there 
would  be  far  less  trifling  with  the  serious 
concerns  of  character.  If  we  could  really 
feel  that  every  sin,  every  negligence, 
every  neglect,  involves  either  a  perma 
nent  or  a  passing  loss  of  power,  and  that 
we  are  absolutely  powerless  to  sever  our 
selves  from  the  causes  which  we  set  in 
motion,  we  should  walk  with  very  care 
ful  feet.  That  which  gives  us  the  power 
of  impressing  our  fellows  is  not  so  much 
the  conscious  direction  of  our  abilities  as 
243 


Works  and  Days 

the  unconscious  expression  of  ourselves. 
It  is  character  in  its  continuous  revela 
tion  which  gives  or  denies  us  the  power 
we  seek  with  others.  There  is  no  possi 
bility  of  concealing  one's  real  self;  it 
will  discover  itself,  and  in  that  discovery, 
constantly  going  on,  lies  our  chief  influ 
ence,  either  for  good  or  ill.  The  only 
way  to  make  the  most  of  ourselves  is  to 
hold  ourselves  in  perfect  humility  to  loy 
alty  and  obedience.  There  is  a  greater 
power  behind  us,  ready  to  be  expressed 
through  us,  than  we  can  comprehend. 
Men  who  take  their  lives  into  their  own 
hands,  who  obey  or  disobey  as  they 
choose,  and  use  their  gifts  as  forces  which 
they  can,  in  a  way,  detach  from  them 
selves,  are  continually  coming  to  failure, 
if  not  to  positive  disaster.  It  was  once 
said  of  a  public  man  of  great  intellectual 
force,  but  exceedingly  questionable  moral 
character,  who  was  put  upon  his  defence 
by  certain  charges,  that  when  he  stood 
on  his  feet  and  spoke  for  himself  it 
seemed  as  if  no  evidence  could  convict 
244 


The  Real  Power  in  Life 

him,  but  when  he  sat  down  and  was 
silent,  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  no  friends 
and  no  defence.  This  man  had  detached 
his  gifts  from  his  character.  When  he 
could  employ  them  consciously  he  made 
an  impression,  but  the  moment  he  was 
silent,  his  power  was  gone.  There  was 
no  unconscious  atmosphere  of  truth  and 
integrity  about  him.  His  character  be 
lied  his  gifts.  We  ought  so  to  live  that 
the  great  purpose  behind  us  may  work 
itself  out  through  us,  and  that,  whether 
speaking  or  silent,  whether  working 
or  at  rest,  the  unconscious  atmosphere 
which  we  carry  with  us  may  breathe 
purity,  fidelity,  and  loyalty. 


24S 


THE   GRACE   OF   OPPOR 
TUNITY 

THERE  are  no  men  or  women  who 
owe  more  to  themselves  and  their 
fellows  than  those  to  whom  opportunities 
are  constantly  coming,  before  whom 
doors  are  constantly  opened.  Such  a  lot 
is  the  highest  of  all  good  fortunes,  since 
it  means  not  only  success,  but  growth ; 
not  only  talent,  but  the  possibilities  of 
character.  There  is  a  patient  host  who 
work  on,  day  after  day,  with  no  hope  of 
large  advancement,  no  stimulus  of  marked 
progress,  and  no  inspiration  of  wider 
outlook ;  who  must  find  their  reward  in 
the  consciousness  of  work  well  done,  and 
possess  their  hearts  in  patience,  as  far  as 
their  aspirations  and  ambitions  are  con 
cerned.  Many  a  man  is  conscious  of  a 
larger  power  than  circumstances  afford 
him  the  room  to  put  forth  ;  and  it  in 
volves  no  small  strain  on  character  to 
246 


The  Grace  of  Opportunity 

accept  such  limitations  cheerfully,  and 
to  recognize  the  progress  of  those  who 
are  more  fortunately  placed,  not  only 
without  envy,  but  with  a  generous  pleas 
ure.  He  who  can  do  this  has  a  heroic 
strain  in  him. 

To  those,  therefore,  into  whose  hands 
the  golden  keys  are  put,  there  come  not 
only  great  satisfactions  but  great  respon 
sibilities.  If  such  an  one  is  tempted  to 
find  the  secret  of  his  success  in  himself, 
let  him  consider  well  what  his  circum 
stances  have  been,  and  let  him  think 
always  of  the  nobler  men  who  are  bound 
in  creeks  and  shallows  while  he  spreads 
his  sail  on  the  open  sea.  Every  new 
opportunity  should  send  a  man  to  his 
knees  instead  of  lifting  him  up  in  his 
own  mind,  should  give  him  additional 
poise  and  balance  instead  of  access  of  van 
ity.  Nothing  is  more  painful  than  the 
spectacle  of  one  whom  a  little  success 
makes  self-conscious  and  inflated,  so  that 
the  larger  the  success  which  comes  the 
plainer  becomes  his  essential  weakness. 
247 


Works  and  Days 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing 
which  comforts  those  who  are  striving 
with  adverse  conditions  so  entirely  as  the 
untainted  and  unspoiled  spirit  which  re 
ceives  success  as  a  trust,  not  as  a  reward, 
and  bears  it  as  a  possession  to  be  divided 
rather  than  hoarded. 


FORGETTING   THE  THINGS 
THAT   ARE   BEHIND 

AN  army  which  is  to  move  rapidly 
and  strike  swift,  decisive  blows 
carries  as  little  baggage  as  possible.  It 
leaves  all  impedimenta  in  the  rear,  and 
relies  for  its  safety  upon  its  ability  to 
move  with  sufficient  rapidity  and  force 
to  overcome  obstacles.  An  old-time 
Oriental  army  carried  with  it  every  sort  of 
convenience  and  luxury;  a  modern  Occi 
dental  army  discards  everything  but  the 
weapons  and  the  supplies  which  equip  it 
for  action.  There  are  a  great  many 
people  who  move  encumbered  with  as 
much  impedimenta  as  the  Persian  armies 
which  the  Greeks  once  destroyed.  They 
leave  nothing  behind  them ;  their  mis 
takes,  blunders,  and  failures  are  carried 
along  from  day  to  day  as  if  they  were 
priceless  possessions  instead  of  being 
249 


Works  and  Days 

shells  which  ought  to  have  been  thrown 
by  the  wayside  long  ago,  after  the  fruit 
of  experience  has  been  taken  from  them. 
There  is  a  grace  in  forgetting  as  well  as 
in  remembering;  there  is  a  genius  in 
knowing  what  to  discard  as  well  as  what 
to  keep ;  and  both  these  are  the  invari 
able  possession  of  a  successful  and  effi 
cient  life.  No  man  of  conscience  can 
forget  his  sins ;  no  man  of  judgment  can 
forget  his  mistakes;  but  he  does  not 
carry  them  with  him.  What  he  does 
carry  is  the  experience  which  has  come 
to  him  through  them, —  the  strength,  the 
wisdom,  the  grace  of  character,  which 
have  been  developed  by  what  they  have 
brought  or  what  they  have  taken  away. 

A  man's  real  life  is  always  before  him ; 
the  past  is  only  valuable  for  what  we  can 
learn  from  it.  The  days  fade  from  all 

m 

distinct  recollection  because  these  artifi 
cial  divisions  of  time  are  of  no  conse 
quence  except  as  character  has  grown  or 
degenerated  in  them.  A  man's  greatest 
achievement,  once  accomplished,  begins 
250 


Forgetting  Things  that  are  Behind 

immediately  to  recede  and  become  less 
and  less  in  his  eyes.  No  really  great 
man  has  ever  reposed  on  anything  which 
he  has  done  ;  there  has  always  been  the 
consciousness  that  he  was  greater  than 
any  expression  he  had  given  of  himself, 
and  that  the  real  satisfaction  and  joy  of 
his  life  lay,  not  in  the  work,  but  in 
the  doing  of  it.  One  task  succeeds 
another,  one  experience  follows  another, 
in  endless  succession  ;  a  man's  work  is 
never  finally  done,  because  his  life  is 
always  expanding ;  and  the  time  will 
never  come  when  this  law  of  progression 
will  cease  to  operate.  There  can  be  no 
heaven  which  is  not  a  heaven  of  develop 
ment.  It  is  a  great  waste  of  strength  to 
make  one's  faults  and  blunders  and  sin 
impedimenta  in  the  onward  march. 
There  is  no  virtue  in  continually  be 
moaning  the  misdoings  of  the  past. 
Real  repentance  is  not  lamentation,  but 
girding  up  the  loins  for  the  work  of 
expiation.  Let  the  dead  old  year  bury 
its  dead;  leave  behind  the  depressing 
251 


Works  and  Days 

memories  of  failure  and  defeat,  while  you 
carry  their  lessons  in  your  heart.  Your 
real  life  is  not  behind,  but  before  you ; 
it  is  the  new  year  and  not  the  old  which 
is  your  opportunity. 


252 


BELIEVE   IN   YOUR   WORK 

THE  English  governor  of  one  of 
the  provinces  of  the  British  Em 
pire  in  India,  commenting  on  his  good 
fortune  in  getting  out  of  the  country 
before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Mutiny, 
said :  "  I  could  never  have  fought  well, 
for  I  could  never  make  up  my  mind 
whether  our  conquest  of  India  was  a 
divinely  inspired  act  or  a  great  dacoity." 
The  remark  showed  sound  knowledge 
of  life.  No  man  can  fight  vigorously 
and  successfully  if  he  is  uncertain  of  his 
right  to  fight.  The  soldier  who  leaves 
behind  him  the  open  question  whether 
a  thing  ought  to  be  done  or  not,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  will  retreat  along  that 
line.  The  advance  line  is  held  only  by 
the  man  who  believes  in  the  end  that  lies 
before  him,  and  in  his  right  to  secure 
that  end.  Nothing  blights  faith  in  a 
purpose,  or  saps  the  strength  to  carry 
253 


Works  and  Days 

it  out  like  skepticism.  The  skepticism 
need  not  be  very  deep  or  very  radical ;  a 
very  little  of  it  will  go  a  long  way  in  de 
stroying  a  man's  working  power.  It  is 
one  of  the  mental  and  spiritual  misfor 
tunes  of  our  time  that  so  many  men  and 
women  are  uncertain  whether  the  thing 
they  are  doing  is  worth  while.  They  are 
fighting  a  losing  battle,  not  because  they 
have  not  the  force  or  the  equipment  to 
fight  a  winning  one,  but  because  they  can 
never  quite  make  up  their  minds  whether 
the  fight  ought  to  be  made  or  not.  A 
half-hearted  or  questioning  Stanley  would 
be  an  absurdity.  The  man  who  is  to 
cross  Africa  through  the  heart  of  its  vast 
forests  and  its  deadly  morasses  must  be 
a  man  who  believes  that  doing  that  par 
ticular  thing  is  worth  every  exertion  that 
a  human  being  can  make,  and  that  if  his 
life  goes  into  the  work  the  loss  will  be 
well  made.  No  smaller  faith  than  this 
could  have  given  Stanley  the  impulse 
which  sent  him  through  the  heart  of 
Africa.  If  Mr.  Edison  spent  his  nights 
254 


Believe  in  Your  Work 

in  querying  whether  his  work  by  day  was 
worth  the  doing,  the  wonderful  develop 
ment  of  the  practical  use  of  electricity 
which  he  has  secured  for  the  benefit 
of  men  would  never  have  been  made. 
Doubt  is  a  healthy  stage  in  the  life  of 
every  man  who  thinks,  but  it  is  only 
a  stage,  not  a  permanent  condition. 
Sooner  or  later  the  man  who  achieves 
anything  in  life  leaves  doubt  behind  him 
and  puts  his  hand  in  the  resolute  grasp 
of  a  clean,  clear,  triumphant  faith  in 
some  cause  or  purpose,  or  principle  or 
aim.  When  we  stop  to  ask  ourselves 
whether  life  is  worth  living,  we  ought 
at  once  to  call  in  the  family  physician; 
that  question  means  disease  either  of 
body  or  mind ;  it  is  a  question  which  no 
healthy  man  or  woman  has  any  business 
to  ask. 


255 


EARN   YOUR   SUCCESS 

ONE  of  the  most  futile  things  in  life 
is  the  attempt  to  make  men  fill 
places  for  which  they  are  not  fitted,  or  to 
do  work  to  which  they  are  not  equal. 
There  are  few  things  which  cause  so 
much  disappointment  and  general  irri 
tation  as  the  mistaken  acts  of  friendship 
which  push  a  man  higher  than  he  can 
stand,  and,  in  a  blind  desire  to  serve  him, 
load  him  down  with  responsibilities  which 
he  cannot  bear.  A  true  friendship  is 
always  wise  and  candid.  It  recognizes 
the  limitations  of  one  whom  it  would 
aid,  and  does  not  endeavor  to  pass  over 
those  limitations  and  set  at  naught  that 
general  law  of  life  which  establishes  an 
affinity  between  a  man's  capacity  and  the 
work  he  is  to  do.  V  There  is,  in  fact, 
very  little  that  friendship  can  do  for  a 
man  beyond  securing  him  a  good  oppor- 
256 


Earn  Your  Success 

tunity ;  it  cannot,  with  the  best  intentions 
and  the  utmost  zeal,  make  him  equal  to 
the  opportunity.  Friendship  stands  at 
the  door  and  holds  it  open,  but  it  can 
not  make  him  who  enters  at  home  in 
a  new  place  unless  there  is  that  within 
himself  which  makes  it  possible  for  him 
to  adapt  himself  to  his  new  surroundings. 
There  are  a  great  many  men  who  seem 
to  think  that,  by  the  assistance  of  their 
friends,  all  things  are  possible  to  them, 
and  who  hold  their  friends  responsible 
for  their  failure  to  secure  the  places  and 
emoluments  which  they  believe  are  their 
due.  Such  persons  are  entirely  ignorant 
of  that  great  law  of  life  which  imposes 
upon  each  man  the  necessity  of  working 
out  his  own  salvation.  Character  can 
never  be  formed  by  deputy,  nor  can 
great  works  be  done,  great  responsi 
bilities  met,  and  great  results  realized,  by 
delegation  to  another.  For  our  oppor 
tunities  we  may  well  look  to  our  friends; 
for  our  successful  dealing  with  our  op- 

.  .».......»._„.—_,.„.•«...„.»,. — -.  -  O  •  "•-"•"••  ""—.-•»— --...JE.,. 

portunities  we  must  look  to  ourselves. 
17  257 


Works  and  Days 

Friendship  can  put  a  man  in  the  right 
place  and  give  him  the  proper  tools,  but 
it  cannot  direct  his  work,  nor  can  it  bring 
out  the  skill  which  Nature  has  denied  or 
which  inefficiency  has  refused  to  acquire. 
There  is  a  broad  justice  running 
through  life  which  is  only  the  more 
apparent  because  one  sometimes  finds 
exceptions  to  it.  As  a  rule,  men  achieve 
the  success  which  they  deserve,  and  ob 
tain  the  places  for  which  they  are  fitted. 
There  are  some  who,  by  the  accidents 
of  the  time  in  which  they  live,  are 
thwarted  of  results  which  might  properly 
have  been  theirs  under  more  favorable 
conditions ;  but  the  great  majority  of 
those  who  fail  are  responsible  for  their 
failures.  Their  intentions  may  have  been 
good,  but  they  have  lacked  either  the  wise 
discernment  of  their  duties  or  the  resolute 
industry  which  turns  opportunity  into 
achievement.  A  Napoleon  without  social 
or  political  backing  will  somehow  come 
to  the  head  of  the  army  and  will  use 
it  as  if  it  were  a  part  of  himself;  a 
258 


Earn  Your  Success 

McClellan,  with  the  best  intentions  in 
the  world  and  the  most  sincere  patriot 
ism,  when  every  possible  instrument  of 
success  is  put  into  his  hand,  will  remain 
paralyzed  and,  to  a  large  degree,  impo 
tent.  He  had  the  opportunity,  but  it 
was  too  great  for  him ;  and,  in  the  light 
of  history  it  is  seen  to  be  a  misfortune 
that  he  was  advanced  to  a  place  which  he 
could  not  hold,  and  from  which  he  could 
not  progress.  All  that  we  can  ask  justly 
from  our  most  devoted  friends  is  that 
they  shall  help  us  to  the  possession  of 
the  things  we  need  to  work  with.  When 
they  have  done  that,  we  can  ask  nothing 
more  of  them  which  they  can  wisely 
render  to  us.  If  we  fail,  the  responsi 
bility  is  upon  us  and  not  upon  them. 
Neither  their  love,  their  services,  nor 
their  resources  can  fit  us  for  positions 
to  which  Nature,  or  our  own  inefficiency 
has  not  made  us  equal.  It  is  easy  to 
lay  to  our  souls  the  flattery  of  having 
been  defeated  by  forces  against  which 
no  human  will  could  have  striven  suc- 
259 


Works  and  Days 

cessfully,  or  to  have  been  thwarted  in  our 
effort  to  work  out  whatever  is  in  us  by 
lack  of  opportunities  ;  but  if  we  analyze 
the  causes  of  our  failure  honestly,  we  shall 
generally  find  that  they  have  been  due  to 
some  defect  in  ourselves  —  a  defect  which 
could  not  have  been  remedied  by  all  the 
friendship  and  co-operation  in  the  world, 
and  a  defect  which  ought  not  to  have 
been  remedied  by  any  one  but  ourselves. 
There  is  a  fundamental  immorality  in  the 
attainment  of  success  for  which  a  man 
has  not  striven  ;  there  is  an  element  of 
falsehood  in  the  holding  of  a  place  which 
has  not  come  to  one  as  a  recognition  of 
his  ability  to  fill  it.  Better  a  thousand 
times  obscurity  and  humble  work  than 
prominence  or  opulence  gained  by  acci 
dent  or  secured  by  favor.  V There  is  a 
kind  of  aid  which  it  is  immoral  for  a 
friend  to  give  and  equally  immoral  for 
another  to  receive ;  it  is  the  aid  which 
takes  the  place  of  some  work  we  ought 
to  have  done,  some  energy  we  ought  to 
have  put  forth,  some  strength  and  power 
260 


Earn  Your  Success 

of  character  we  ought  to  have  attained.^ 
No  success   is   real  or  lasting,  or  worth 
having  which  does  not  come  as  the  out 
ward  recognition  of  some  inward  quality 
in  the  man  who  achieves  it. 


261 


LIGHT   IN   THE   SHADOW 

THERE  is  nothing  comparable  in 
interest  with  the  development  of  a 
human  life.  The  love  of  biography,  so 
widely  diffused,  bears  constant  testimony 
to  the  recognition  by  men  at  large  of  the 
supreme  importance  of  the  unfolding  of 
personal  character.  The  story  of  the 
man  who  begins  with  small  opportunities 
in  boyhood,  and,  by  patience,  integrity, 
courage,  and  submission,  comes  at  last 
to  great  place,  noble  character,  and  large 
usefulness,  is  the  one  story  in  which 
men  never  lose  their  interest,  and  which 
constantly  recreates  hope  and  ambition 
in  struggling  and  despondent  souls.  Such 
a  story  not  only  teaches  the  lesson  of 
the  power  of  steadfast  purpose  and  con 
tinuous  energy,  but  always  bears  witness 
to  the  presence  of  something  behind  the 
man,  greater  than  he,  wiser,  more  far- 
seeing;  something  which  takes  into  ac- 
262 


Light  in  the  Shadow 

count  the  largest  possibilities  of  his 
nature  and  which,  by  hope,  by  impulse, 
and  by  pressure,  pushes  him  constantly 
onward.  In  every  great  career  two 
elements  are  combined  —  the  element  of 
powerful  personality,  and  the  element  of 
strength,  of  plan,  and  of  energy  outside 
and  above  the  man. 

Looking  at  a  successful  career  from 
the  outside,  it  seems  as  if  the  course  of 
such  a  career  were  perfectly  plain  ;  as 
if  the  man  saw  from  the  beginning  what 
he  could  attain  to,  and  so,  because  he 
saw  the  remote  end,  was  able  to  sur 
mount  cheerfully  all  obstacles,  to  pass 
through  all  difficulties,  and  to  maintain 
an  unshaken  courage  in  all  adversities. 
But  this  is  really  never  the  case.  There 
are  times  in  the  lives  of  the  greatest  men 
when  aims  become  indistinct,  when  hopes 
wither  and  courage  faints ;  times  when 
the  man  works,  not  because  he  sees 
whither  he  is  going,  or  what  he  shall 
accomplish,  but  simply  in  blind  reliance 
or  in  desperate  resolution.  It  is  these 
263 


Works  and  Days 

dark  experiences,  common  to  all  men, 
great  and  small,  which  seem  to  serve  as 
avenues  of  access  to  heart  and  mind  for 
the  deepest  teaching  of  life.  When  a 
man's  career  is  taken  out  of  his  own 
hands,  when  the  consciousness  of  weak 
ness  is  borne  on  him  so  strongly  that  he 
feels  as  if  the  very  foundations  had  failed, 
there  often  comes  with  this  absolute 
giving  up  of  all  resource  in  one's  self 
the  vision  of  a  greater  power,  the 
glimpse  of  a  diviner  purpose  in  which 
the  individual  life  is  folded  and  toward 
the  realization  of  which  it  is  borne 
irresistibly  forward.  The  supreme  com 
fort  of  life  lies  in  this  clear  perception 
of  the  tremendous  educative  power  and 
purpose  behind  it  —  an  influence  which 
no  man  can  escape,  and  which  he  can 
defeat  only  by  his  own  infidelity.  It 
is  a  great  thing  to  feel,  when  our  own 
small  plans  are  in  a  moment  destroyed, 
our  own  ambitions  in  a  moment  thwarted 
forever,  that,  instead  of  losing,  we  are 
exchanging  a  lower  for  a  higher  thing; 
264 


Light  in  the  Shadow 

that  the  fall  of  the  blossom  means  the 
coming  of  the  fruit.  An  educative 
process  is  always  a  painful  one,  in 
volving  constant  self-denial,  self-sur 
render,  self-abnegation ;  but  there  is 
nothing  in  life  that  so  dignifies  and 
ennobles  a  man ;  nothing  which  in  the 
end  crowns  him  with  such  enduring 
success.  One  can  well  afford  to  stand 
at  times,  baffled  and  heartsick,  to  feel 
that  nothing  is  certain,  that  one's  plans 
and  hopes  may  in  an  instant  be  blotted 
out,  if  with  this  sense  of  weakness  there 
also  comes  the  sense  that  a  higher  power 
is  directing  one's  career,  and  that  through 
these  painful  experiences  the  unseen  God 
is  transforming  a  lower  into  a  higher 
conception  of  life,  opening  up  a  soul  to 
new  and  greater  truth,  and  lifting  one 
through  shadow  into  his  own  light. 


265 


THE   WASTE   OF   FRICTION 

UNDOUBTEDLY  a  great  many 
people  overwork,  but  there  are  a 
great  many  sins  laid  on  the  shoulders  of 
work  which  ought  to  be  bound  on  the 
back  of  friction.  Friction  kills  ten  men 
where  overwork  kills  one  ;  friction  de 
stroys  freshness,  wastes  energy,  spends 
courage,  and  induces  failure.  Except  in 
cases  where  personal  adjustments  are 
absolutely  necessary,  friction  is  pure 
waste,  serves  no  purpose,  accomplishes 
no  result,  and  is  so  much  capital  of 
health,  strength,  high  spirit,  and  good 
working  power  thrown  away.  It  is  safe 
to  say  that  no  great  enterprise  ever 
succeeded  in  which  friction  was  not  re 
duced  to  a  minimum,  because  friction  in 
volves  necessarily  defective  organization 
or  antagonistic  methods  and  plans.  The 
home  in  which  friction  is  a  permanent 
element  is  a  caricature  of  a  real  home, 
266 


The  Waste  of  Friction 

It  is  a  home  without  repose,  without 
cheerfulness,  without  that  atmosphere  of 
confidence,  sweetness,  and  sacrifice  which 
is  to  all  the  best  and  noblest  interests  of 
the  family  what  the  air  is  to  plants  and 
men.  Incidental  and  occasional  friction 
are  inevitable  ;  continuous  friction  means 
bad  organization,  unsympathetic  workers, 
or  the  presence  of  obstinacy,  stupidity, 
or  wilfulness.  Wherever  it  exists  it 
ought  to  be  taken  as  an  indication  that 
there  is  something  wrong,  and  as  a  sug 
gestion  that  it  is  time  to  examine  the 
situation  and  remove  the  obstacle.  In 
most  cases  the  observance  of  a  few  simple 
principles  will  eliminate  this  exasperating 
source  of  weakness  and  failure. 

It  is  useless  for  people  to  try  to  ac 
complish  a  common  result  without  mu 
tual  confidence  in  one  another.  If  a  man 
lacks  confidence  in  his  partners  he  would 
better  dissolve  the  partnership  and  form 
new  business  connections  ;  if  a  man  lacks 
confidence  in  his  friends,  he  would  better 
examine  himself  to  see  whether  he  is 
267 


Works  and  Days 

worthy  of  association  with  them,  and  if 
he  can  satisfy  his  mind  on  that  point  he 
would  better  cease  intercourse  with  them 
rather  than  carry  it  on  at  the  expense  of 
that  good  understanding  which  is  the 
basis  of  all  true  friendship.  A  friendship 
accompanied  by  incessant  irritation  will 
sooner  or  later  come  to  an  end,  and  the 
sooner  that  end  is  reached  the  better. 
Mutual  confidence  is  the  only  sound  and 
healthy  basisfor  co-operation  in  any  enter 
prise.  When  we  cease  to  have  confidence 
in  one  another,  it  is  time  that  the  con 
nection  should  be  broken. 

Thorough-going  sympathy  makes  fric 
tion  impossible,  and  is  at  the  same  time 
the  foundation  rock  on  which  all  great 
success  is  builded.  No  man  can  co 
operate,  heart  and  soul,  with  another 
unless  he  has  sympathy  with  his  aims 
and  spirit.  He  cannot  even  understand 
what  those  aims  and  spirit  are  without 
the  power  to  put  himself  in  the  other's 
place  and  see  things  from  his  point  of 
view.  Great  enterprises  go  through  to 
268 


The  Waste  of  Friction 

success  when  men  come  into  full  sym 
pathy  with  one  another  in  their  devotion 
to  a  great  purpose.  Such  a  sympathy  is 
a  silent  but  infallible  interpreter  between 
men  who  may  differ  in  many  points,  urge 
diverse  methods,  even  possess  antago 
nistic  temperaments,  and  yet  be  perfectly 
harmonious  through  their  agreement  in 
some  central  purpose. 

Every  great  work  is,  in  a  certain  sense, 
a  compromise.  No  man  is  able  to 
achieve  a  great  thing  with  his  own  un 
aided  hand.  At  some  point  or  another 
he  needs  the  help  of  others,  and  when  he 
needs  that  help  he  must  concede  some 
thing  to  secure  it.  It  is  only  under  a 
despotism,  or  under  some  form  of  slavery 
that  one  man  arbitrarily  imposes  his  will 
on  another.  In  that  case  there  is  no 
friction,  because  there  is  no  individuality, 
no  consciousness  of  manhood,  no  barrier 
of  self-respect.  Mutual  concessions  are 
the  price  which  men  must  pay  for  co 
operation,  and  in  the  end  they  gain  more 
than  they  lose ;  for  many  a  man  who 
369 


Works  and  Days 

has  genius  for  ideas  is  helpless  without 
the  practical  skill  which  can  give  them 
shape  and  form.  In  the  shaping  and 
forming,  the  idea  is  generally  modified  to 
advantage. 

Men  who  work  together  and  without 
friction  must  respect  one  another.  There 
is  nothing  which  creates  so  effective  an 
esprit  de  corps,  which  develops  so 
thorough  a  discipline,  as  the  common 
respect  of  each  man  for  the  place,  re 
sponsibilities,  and  authority  of  every 
other  man. 


270 


DISCIPLINE   OF  HINDRANCE 

THERE  is  an  instinctive  feeling  in 
the  heart  of  every  man  that  he  has 
a  right  to  a  clear  opportunity  to  do  his 
work  in  the  world  and  bring  out  in  full 
measure  whatever  force  there  is  in  him. 
It  is  this  instinct  which  resents  the  ob 
struction  of  obstacles  as  something 
foreign  to  life,  as  accidents  which  break 
up  the  general  order  of  things,  as  useless 
interferences  which  weaken  effort,  de 
lay  achievement,  and  exhaust  strength. 
Every  man  craves  a  free  field  for  his 
work,  and  a  clear  opportunity  for  his 
talent.  If  these  are  granted  he  is  confi 
dent  of  the  success  which  would  crown 
his  efforts ;  if  these  are  secured  he  is  cer 
tain  of  the  useful  and  victorious  life 
which  he  will  lead.  Every  energy  and 
gift  contains  within  it  an  impulse  for 
action.  The  man  who  discovers  in 
271 


Works  and  Days 

himself  the  ability  to  write  feels  that  the 
opportunity  to  write  ought  to  be  given 
to  him ;  the  man  who  develops  a  gift  for 
oratory  craves  the  opportunity  of  the 
platform,  and  feels  wronged  if  he  does 
not  secure  it ;  the  man  who  is  conscious 
of  great  executive  force  demands  an 
ample  field  in  which  to  exercise  it,  and 
feels  defrauded  if  he  does  not  secure  it. 
Behind  every  gift  there  is  usually  an 
energy  sufficient  to  send  it  with  the  im 
pulsion  which  powder  gives  to  the  ball. 

If  success  in  life  lay  entirely  in  the 
working  out  of  one's  gifts  symmetri 
cally,  and  in  doing  one's  work  with  the 
completeness  and  finish  of  a  fine  piece 
of  mechanism,  obstacles  and  limitations 
would  be  interferences  with  the  normal 
order  of  things,  obstructions  thrown  in 
the  way  of  the  runner  which  ought  not  to 
be  there.  But  real  success  is  not  a  matter 
of  complete  and  symmetrical  achieve 
ment  ;  it  is  the  outcome  of  a  man's  life 
when  the  normal  force  within  him  is 
measured  against  the  difficulties  he  has 
272 


Discipline  of  Hindrance 

to  overcome.  These  obstacles,  which 
seem  so  unnecessary,  these  constantly  re 
curring,  vexatious,  and  often  meaningless 
interruptions,  serve  a  high  moral  purpose 
in  our  lives.  There  is  no  business,  pro 
fession,  or  art  which  is  not  beset  by 
them.  In  one  of  his  most  interesting 
and  suggestive  chapters  Mr.  Hamerton 
emphasizes  the  moral  qualities  which 
the  technical  difficulties  in  painting  bring 
out  in  an  artist.  Instead  of  being  able, 
without  flaw,  interruption,  or  break  in 
the  effort  to  put  on  canvas  the  perfect 
representation  of  the  ideal  picture  in  his 
own  soul,  the  artist  is  obliged  to  over 
come  all  manner  of  small,  vexatious  diffi 
culties  in  the  mere  mechanical  work  of 
putting  his  vision  into  a  visible  form. 
But  in  surmounting  these  difficulties, 
vexatious  as  they  are,  the  vision  becomes 
clearer,  the  purpose  stronger,  the  will 
steadier ;  and  when  the  work  is  done, 
there  is  a  moral  as  well  as  an  artistic 
quality  in  it.  Interruptions  and  obstacles 
arising  from  the  details  which  abound  in 

18  273 


every  occupation,  which  grow  out  of  diffi 
culties  of  personal  adjustment,  out  of 
variations  of  physical  condition,  out  of 
changing  moods  and  diverse  tempera 
ments,  are  vexatious  and  exhausting,  but 
they  play  a  great  part  in  our  lives,  and 
the  spirit  in  which  we  meet  them  largely 
determines  our  character.  Many  a  man 
puts  forth  more  moral  strength  in  remov 
ing  obstacles  from  his  path  than  another 
puts  forth  in  achieving  the  highest  dis 
tinction.  In  such  a  case,  who  shall  say 
that  the^man  whose  whole  effort  has  been 

•  j£- 

spent  if!  clearing  his  way  has  not  done  as 
much  and  won  as  noble  a  success  as  he 
who  has  run  with  swift  and  unencum 
bered  feet  to  the  goal  at  the  end  ? 


274 


THE  LIMITS   OF  HELP 
FULNESS 

"TJMIIENDSHIP  is  not  only  one  of 
J7  the  greatest  delights  and  resources 
in  life,  but  it  offers  some  of  the  finest 
opportunities  which  fall  to  the  lot  of 
man.  No  man  can  feel  poor  or  entirely 
bereft  so  long  as  he  has  faithful  friends  ; 
no  man  can  feel  that  he  has  made  a 
failure  of  life  so  long  as  he  is  able  to 
attach  strong,  high-minded  men  and 
women  to  himself.  But  friendship,  like 
all  the  other  good  gifts  of  life,  ought  to 
be  accepted  rather  for  what  one  can  put 
into  it  than  for  what  one  can  get  out  of 
it.  There  are  times  when  we  must  lean 
heavily  on  our  friends,  —  when  we  can 
do  nothing  for  them  and  they  can  do 
much  for  us.  But  the  normal  attitude 
of  every  man  toward  his  friends  ought 
to  be  that  of  giving  rather  than  of  get- 
275 


Works  and  Days 

ting,  of  serving  rather  than  of  being 
served.  It  is  of  the  first  importance  that 
the  service  we  render  our  friends  shall 
be  .intelligent,  —  not  simply  a  blind  at 
tempt  to  help  in  ways  which  are  essen 
tially  unhelpful.  It  is  often  said  that 
nothing  requires  so  much  wisdom  as  the 
bestowal  of  money  ;  it  might  be  added 
that  few  things  require  greater  tact  and 
judgment  than  the  rendering  of  the  ser 
vices  of  friendship. 

A  really  noble  friendship,  which  real 
izes  the  higher  ideals  of  the  relation, 
must  be  open-eyed ;  friendship  ought 
never  to  lose  its  sight.  Our  friendship 
is  really  helpful  to  others,  not  when  it 
makes  things  easy  for  them,  gratifying 
their  desires  and  yielding  to  their  humors, 
but  when  it  develops  the  best  that  is  in 
them  ;  when  it  puts  them  on  their  mettle, 
makes  their  weaknesses  clear,  and  spurs 
them  to  the  acquirement  of  the  strength 
which  overcomes.  "  Our  friends,"  said 
Emerson,  with  characteristic  insight,  "  are 
those  who  make  us  do  what  we  can." 
276 


The  Limits  of  Helpfulness 

Our  real  friend  is  not  the  man  or  woman 
who  smoothes  over  our  difficulties, 
throws  a  cloak  over  our  failings,  stands 
between  us  and  the  penalties  which  our 
mistakes  have  brought  upon  us ;  but 
the  man  or  woman  who  makes  us  under 
stand  ourselves  and  helps  us  to  better 
things.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  be 
fettered  by  the  weaknesses  of  our  friends, 
to  accept  their  limitations  as  our  own, 
and,  by  yielding  to  their  moods  and 
narrowness,  to  circumscribe  our  own 
life.  No  healthy  nature  is  willing  to 
allow  another  to  take  toward  it  the  re 
lation  of  a  parasite ;  a  healthy  nature 
demands  health  in  others  ;  it  is  willing 
to  bear  any  number  of  burdens  for  others, 
to  put  its  strength  in  the  place  of  an 
other's  weakness  ;  but  it  is  never  will 
ing  that  another  should  come  so  to  rely 
upon  it  that  the  life  of  that  other  is 
dwarfed  and  enfeebled.  A  self-respecting 
friendship  demands  that  there  shall  be 
equality  between  the  two  who  are  bound 
by  it ;  that  each  shall  give  as  well  as  re- 
277 


Works  and  Days 

ceive,  and  that  each  shall  furnish  a  part 
of  the  capital  of  the  mutual  investment. 
If  our  friends  press  too  closely  upon  our 
individuality,  our  privacy,  or  our  work, 
it  is  the  part  of  friendship  to  repel  the 
intrusion.  There  are  certain  limits  be 
yond  which  even  friendship  cannot  go  ; 
when  it  does,  it  has  become  morbid  and 
unhealthy,  and  is  debilitating  alike  to 
him  who  leans  and  to  him  who  supports. 
That  which  a  true  friendship  longs 
for  and  strives  to  achieve  is  the  growth 
of  power  and  freedom  in  another.  It 
will  not  hesitate  to  give  pain  because  it 
must  be  based  on  truth.  Drawn  upon 
sometimes  for  self-pity,  it  will  not  shrink 
from  the  sting  which  arouses  energy  and 
dignity ;  it  will  have  too  much  respect 
for  another  to  permit  in  that  other  any 
decline  from  the  dignity  of  a  true  per 
sonality,  from  the  independence  which 
belongs  to  real  character.  It  will  not 
permit  itself  to  be  made  the  tool  of 
another's  weakness,  the  slave  of  another's 
humor;  it  will  resolutely  hold  its  own. 
278 


The  Limits  of  Helpfulness 

The  truest  hospitality  sometimes  consists 
in  locking  the  door,  and  the  truest  friend 
ship  sometimes  involves  absolute  unre- 
sponsiveness  to  an  appeal  that  ought 
never  to  have  been  made.  If  you  wish 
to  serve  your  friend,  help  him  to  be  self- 
supporting,  but  do  not  let  him  become 
dependent  upon  you.  Sting  him,  if 
necessary,  into  the  consciousness  of  his 
own  weaknesses,  even  if  it  cost  his  good 
will.  The  surrender  of  a  friendship  for 
such  a  reason  may  sometimes  be  the 
highest  evidence  of  its  purity  and  no 
bility. 


279 


HEALTHY  DISCONTENT 

THERE  is  a  discontent  which  para 
lyzes  and  destroys;  a  discontent 
with  one's  conditions  and  circumstances 
which  makes  one  restless,  bitter,  and  in 
efficient.  This  is  always  a  moral  disease 
to  be  avoided,  as  any  other  contagion  is 
avoided,  and  to  be  cured  as  any  other 
disease  is  cured.  But  there  is  another 
kind  of  discontent  which  is  a  spur  to 
excellence  and  an  inspiration  to  achieve 
ment —  discontent  with  one's  self.  No 
man  ought  to  be  contented  with  himself, 
to.be  satisfied  with  the  work  he  has  done 
and  the  place  he  has  secured.  It  is  the 
prevalence  of  self-content  in  these  matters 
that  gives  us  so  many  average  men  and 
women,  so  many  commonplace  persons 
who  mistake  their  prejudices  for  convic 
tions  and  their  ignorance  for  knowledge  ; 

men   and  women  who   desire   no   other 

280 


Healthy  Discontent 

authority  for  a  statement  than  that  they 
believe  it,  and  who  see  no  truth  in  the 
world  which  does  not  belong  to  them. 
This  kind  of  self-sufficiency  breeds  ego 
tism,  narrowness,  and  ends  in  absolute 
arrest  of  development.  No  man  can 
grow  who  is  satisfied  with  himself.  The 
open-minded  man  is  never  free  from  the 
feeling  that  he  has  not  done  as  much  as 
he  ought,  and  that  his  future  must  redeem 
by  its  increased  usefulness  and  activity  a 
past  in  which  he  has  failed  to  do  the  best 
and  the  most  for  himself  and  for  others. 
It  would  be  found,  if  one  could  look 
into  the  hearts  of  the  men  and  women 
whose  course  through  life  is  a  steady 
progression  upward,  that  a  divine  dis 
content  is  forever  present  in  aspiring 
spirits.  Those  who  rise  are  never  satis 
fied  with  themselves,  but  are  always  find 
ing  defects,  faults,  and  failures  to  humble 
them  and  to  make  them  more  strenuous 
in  that  which  lies  before  them.  It  is  a 
great  mistake  to  be  always  telling  per 
sons  and  nations  that  they  have  attained 
281 


Works  and  Days 

great  things,  and  that  they  have  made 
some  approach  to  perfection.  The  kind 
of  criticism  Mr.  Arnold  gave  us  is  a 
great  deal  truer  and  more  helpful  than 
the  adulation  and  undiscriminating  com 
mendation  which  some  other  travellers 
have  given  us.  Recognition  of  work 
done  is  a  spur  and  a  help ;  but  there 
ought  always  to  go  with  commendation, 
both  to  persons  and  to  peoples,  a  clear 
setting  forth  of  the  better  things  still  to 
be  done.  "The  love  of  doing  and  the 
scorn  of  done  "  is  the  only  safe  feeling. 


282 


LOVE  AND  WORK 

LOVE  and  work  are  often  far  apart 
in  our  thoughts,  but  it  is  only  when 
they  are  united  that  the  highest  results 
are  achieved.  Duty  and  necessity  will 
make  men  faithful,  but  never  inspire 
them.  Love,  on  the  other  hand,  adds 
to  absolute  fidelity  a  glow  and  inspiration 
which  are  creative.  Those  who  have 
studied  Corot's  skies,  deep  and  tender 
with  an  unfathomable  light,  have  often 
wondered  why  this  artist  alone  of  all  his 
contemporaries  has  mastered  the  secret 
of  the  morning  sky.  But  they  have 
ceased  to  wonder  when  they  read  of  the 
passion  for  the  sky  of  the  dawn  which 
possessed  the  great  painter,  and  led  him, 
morning  after  morning,  year  after  year, 
into  the  open  fields,  to  sit  there,  absorbed 
and  enchanted,  while  the  night  slowly 
changed  to  day  about  him.  Corot  loved 
283 


Works  and  Days 

the  dawn,  and  the  dawn  inspired  him  as 
it  has  inspired  no  other  artist.  It  is  the 
absence  of  love  which  makes  most  work 
drudgery.  A  good  deal  of  that  which  is 
put  by  necessity  into  men's  hands  to  do 
cannot  of  itself  evoke  this  feeling  ;  there 
is  nothing  in  it  which  touches  the  imagi 
nation  or  appeals  to  the  emotions.  When 
the  work  itself  does  not  possess  these 
qualities,  it  can  still  be  done  in  the  spirit 
which  inspires  them.  A  man  may  love 
life  and  all  that  it  brings  him  in  the  way 
of  opportunity  with  such  intensity  and 
whole-heartedness  that  the  meanest  detail 
of  it  comes  to  have  meaning  and  beauty 
in  his  eyes.  All  great  workers  who  have 
achieved  the  very  highest  results  and 
have  stamped  their  performances  with 
individuality  and  distinction,  have  been 
men  of  a  mighty  passion ;  they  have 
been  enchanted  by  the  thing  they  were 
doing ;  and  their  devotion  to  it,  their 
absorption  in  it,  have  betrayed  the  marks 
of  a  great  affection. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  work,   how- 
284 


Love  and  Work 

ever,  given  to  men  to  do  which  is  capable 
of  calling  out  the  deepest  sentiment  of 
love,  which  has  in  it  suggestions  fpr  the 
intellect,  appeals  to  the  imagination,  out 
looks  for  usefulness,  sufficient  to  lay  a 
spell  on  the  greatest  nature  that  ever 
handled  tools.  So,  no  one  can  doubt 
who  looks  at  his  canvases,  did  the  work 
of  painting  appeal  to  Raphael ;  so,  un 
questionably,  did  the  work  of  writing 
throw  its  spell  over  the  great  soul  who 
passed  through  three  worlds  in  order  that 
he  might  see  man  in  all  the  conditions 
of  his  estate.  The  same  mighty  passion 
is  found  in  the  achievement  of  every 
great  worker,  and  every  great  man  must 
of  necessity  be  a  great  worker.  No 
mere  sense  of  duty,  no  whip  of  necessity, 
could  ever  have  drawn  out  such  a  magni 
ficent  and  unbroken  activity  as  that  which 
made  the  history  of  Mr.  Gladstone. 
We  all  need  to  come  into  closer  contact 
with  our  work.  It  is  not  enough  to 
make  a  sense  of  duty  wait  upon  it ;  it  is 
not  enough  to  brood  over  it  in  thought, 
285 


Works  and  Days 

penetrating  it  with  ideas,  and  giving  it 
the  order  of  a  new  and  fresher  method ; 
we  must  press  it  to  our  hearts  if,  for  our 
selves  and  for  others,  we  would  transform 
what  might  be  its  drudgery  into  the 
discipline  that  makes  character,  and  trans 
mute  its  hard  materialism  into  something 
spiritual  and  satisfying. 


286 


ASPIRATION    AND    AMBITION 

\  SPIRATION  and  ambition  repre- 
XjL  sent  two  very  different  motives 
and  attitudes,  although  they  are  often 
confused  in  popular  speech.  The  ambi 
tious  man,  by  reason  of  the  purely  selfish 
character  of  the  underlying  principle  of 
his  life,  may  be  entirely  devoid  of  aspira 
tion,  although  the  brilliancy  of  his  career 
often  confuses  the  minds  of  people  and 
conveys  the  impression  that  he  possesses 
that  which  is  in  no  sense  his.  The  as 
piring  man,  on  the  other  hand,  is  often 
accused  of  ambition,  although  of  this  last 
infirmity  of  great  minds  he  may  lack 
even  the  average  endowment.  In  fact, 
nothing  creates  more  confusion  in  life 
than  this  inability  to  discern  between  the 
fundamental  motives  of  different  lives. 
v'Acts  which  are  identical  in  appearance 
are  often  so  widely  separated  in  motive 
that  they  are  entirely  blameworthy  in 
287 


Works  and  Days 

one  instance  and  entirely  praiseworthy  in 
the  other.  \/The  ambitious  man  desires 
advancement,  and  place  and  wealth  and 
influence,  because  these  things  contribute 
to  some  purpose  apart  from  the  growth 
of  his  own  character ;  because  these  are 
so  many  keys  with  which  he  proposes  to 
unlock  the  treasure-house  of  life,  al 
though  when  these  treasures  lie  within 
his  hand  he  has  no  thought  about  their 
use  except  a  selfish  one.  The  aspiring 
man,  on  the  other  hand,  cares  most  of 
all  for  the  development  of  his  own 
nature  ;  his  desire  is  not  to  get  the  most 
out  of  life,  like  FalstafF,  but  to  put  the 
most  into  it,  like  Paul  or  Luther.  He 
feels  the  steady  pressure  of  the  highest 
impulses  upon  his  soul ;  he  recognizes 
the  constant  solicitation  of  the  noblest 
opportunities,  and  he  responds  to  the  one 
and  pours  himself  into  the  other,  not  for 
what  they  shall  give  him,  but  for  what, 
through  them,  he  shall  bestow  upon  the 
others. 

The  true  artist  is  not  the  man  who 
288 


Aspiration  and  Ambition 

waits  eagerly  for  recognition,  or  who 
studies  the  popular  taste  to  find  out  by 
what  trick  of  his  brush  he  may  make 
sure  of  frequent  appearance  on  the  line 
at  the  exhibition ;  the  true  artist  is  con 
sumed  by  a  mighty  thirst  for  beauty, 
impelled  by  a  mighty  impulse  to  express 
that  which  lies  within  the  vision  of  his 
own  soul.  The  true  man  of  letters  is 
not  he  who  studies  the  fluctuations  of 
taste  and  furnishes  wares  for  the  market, 
but  he  who  feels  the  irresistible  impulse 
of  some  great  truth  seeking  for  ex 
pression  through  him  ;  such  an  one  is 
constantly  under  the  spell  of  the  master- 
teacher,  Life,  and,  as  a  sincere  and  single- 
hearted  pupil,  has  no  other  desire  but  to 
learn  and  speak  the  truth.  An  aspiring 
man  stands  in  small  need  of  the  praise 
of  his  contemporaries  or  the  regard  of 
the  multitude ;  although  these  are  not 
without  satisfaction  and  use  to  him,  his 
main  purpose  is  with  himself  in  the 
noblest  sense.  He  feels  that  he  has 
been  intrusted  with  a  great  and  rare  gift, 
19  289 


Works  and  Days 

and  that  his  life  work  is  not  to  seek  that 
which  shall  gratify  his  pride  or  his  vanity, 
but  to  bring  out  symmetrically,  beauti 
fully,  and  purely  that  which  lies  like  an 
unspent  and  undeveloped  power  within 
himself.  An  aspiring  life,  wisely  lived, 
in  the  end  brings  its  own  external  re 
wards  and  recognition  ;  and  the  man  of 
aspiration  can  wear  safely  all  the  honors 
which  the  world  chooses  to  put  upon 
him.  These  things  come  to  him,  not  as 
objects  external  to  himself,  which  he  has 
grasped  with  selfish  hands,  but  as  the 
normal  fruit  of  the  ripening  of  his  own 
life ;  there  is  no  poison  in  them  for  him ; 
there  is  no  power  of  seduction  in  them  ; 
they  cannot  satisfy,  nor  can  they  arrest 
his  career.  When  he  has  secured  them 
all  they  are  as  nothing  to  him,  because 
his  life  is  still  to  go  on  in  higher  ventures 
and  to  more  remote  ends. 

What  is  needed  in  the  world  is   not 

ambition  but  aspiration  ;*  not  men  who 

are  seeking  office  and  power  and  wealth 

for  themselves,  but  men  whose  overflow 

290 


Aspiration  and  Ambition 

of  energy  and  intelligence  and  whose 
creative  work  and  influence  produce  these 
things  as  naturally  as  the  orchard  pro 
duces  its  autumnal  fruit.  ^In  the  long 
run  the  world  knows  its  great  men,  and 
knows  that  they  are  men  of  aspiration. 
It  is  true  that  aspiration  is  sometimes 
mixed  with  ambition  ;  but  it  is  also  true 
that  the  work  of  a  man's  hand  or  brain 
which  remains  a  permanent  possession 
to  humanity  is  always  the  expression  of 
the  truth  that  was  in  him,  and  not  of  the 
falsehood ;  sooner  or  later  that  which 
was  false  passes  away,  and  only  that 
which  was  true  remains.  In  business, 
in  the  professions,  in  art,  in  literature, 
and  in  public  life,  it  is  the  aspiring  man 
who  is  the  natural  and  only  safe  leader  ; 
he  is  the  man  who  is  ready  to  say  with 
Lincoln:  ylfthis  sentence  in  my  mes 
sage  is  true  I  would  rather  fail  with  it 
then  succeed  by  suppression  of  it.'x  He 
is  ready>  with  Gladstone,  to  go  out  of 
office  for  a  principle,  but  he  is  never 
ready  to  remain  in  office  without  one. 
291 


Works  and  Days 

Aspiration  is  the  one  quality  which 
makes  life  cumulative,  which  forbids  any 
halting  in  the  long  career  of  growth, 
which,  without  resting  and  without  hast 
ing,  impels  a  man  onward  to  the  com 
plete  unfolding  of  himself.  The  aspiring 
man  never  rests  content  with  any  per 
formance,  however  the  world  may  ap 
plaud.  To  him  all  the  works  of  his 
hands  are  inadequate  —  there  is  always 
something  more  in  his  mind  than  he  has 
been  able  to  express ;  there  is  always 
something  nobler  in  his  conception  than 
his  hand  has  conveyed  to  the  eyes  of 
others.  When  fame  comes  to  him  it 
does  not  build  a  wall  of  caution  about 
him  and  lock  its  gates  upon  his  courage 
and  his  independence ;  it  spurs  him  on 
to  still  nobler  efforts  ;  instead  of  being 
an  anchor  which  holds  him  stationary  in 
some  fair  and  peaceful  port,  it  is  a  sail 
which  bears  him  still  seaward  with  the 
illimitable  ocean  before  him. 


292 


THE  GRACE  OF  ACCEPTANCE 

THERE  are  many  sincere  and 
honorable  men  and  women,  with  a 
fine  sense  of  independence,  who  are  gen 
erous  in  giving  and  niggardly  in  receiv 
ing  ;  who  bestow  upon  others  with  a 
liberal  hand,  but  who  find  it  hard  to 
accept  those  services  and  kindnesses 
which  they  love  to  bestow.  But  one 
cannot  be  really  generous  who  refuses 
to  his  fellows  the  pleasure  he  takes  to 
himself.  There  is  nothing  within  one's 
reach  quite  so  satisfying  as  throwing 
a  door  of  opportunity  open  to  some  one 
who  stands  in  sore  need  of  the  larger 
chance  ;  nothing  quite  so  delightful  as 
putting  one  who  craves  music,  art,  books, 
nature,  in  the  way  of  enjoying  these 
things.  In  a  thousand  ways  life  gains 
sweetness  through  the  consciousness  of 
the  ability  to  do  small  kindnesses,  to 
293 


Works  and  Days 

render  minor  services,  to  exercise  a  little 
thoughtfulness  and  courtesy.  But  no 
one  has  a  right  to  take  this  pleasure  to 
himself  and  deny  it  to  others  ;  to  insist 
upon  giving,  and  at  the  same  time  refuse 
to  receive.  He  only  truly  gives  who 
receives  as  generously  as  he  bestows. 
He  who  gives  lavishly  to  me,  but  refuses 
to  allow  me  to  give  to  him,  declares  to 
all  the  world  that  he  recognizes  his  own 
stewardship  of  all  that  he  possesses,  but 
denies  mine;  he  affirms  his  own  duty, 
but  ignores  mine.  This  means  the  divi 
sion  of  a  responsibility  which  ought  to 
rest  whole  and  entire  on  all  men  and 
women.  It  is,  at  bottom,  disloyalty  to 
the  principle  that  we  are  children  of  one 
Father,  members  of  one  household,  and 
heirs  of  one  estate.  It  is  a  false  idea 
of  independence  which  makes  a  man 
unwilling  to  lay  himself  under  obligations 
to  others.  It  is,  to  begin  with,  im 
possible  for  any  man  to  live  and  avoid 
putting  himself  under  the  heaviest  obliga 
tions.  Everything  has  been  done  for  us 
294 


The  Grace  of  Acceptance 

before  we  are  born  :  life,  law,  nature, 
God  first ;  then  society,  government, 
school ;  then  art,  literature,  pleasure,  and 
profit  in  countless  forms  —  all  these  await 
a  man  when  he  arrives,  naked,  helpless, 
and  ignorant,  at  the  gate  of  the  world. 
At  the  very  beginning  he  is  so  loaded 
down  with  obligations  that,  no  matter 
how  great  his  services  and  how  long  and 
arduous  his  life,  he  goes  out  of  the  world 
hopelessly  in  debt  to  his  fellows.  But 
the  world  is  not  a  place  of  barter,  hard 
as  some  men  strive  to  make  it  such  ;  it 
is  a  vast  school,  on  .a  divine  foundation, 
where  everything  is  given  in  order  that  it 
may  be  given  again.  Every  pupil  who 
learns  his  lesson  gives  and  takes  with 
equal  pleasure. 


295 


THE    BETTER   WAY 

THE  ideal  life,  as  most  men  and 
women  think  of  it,  would  be  one 
utterly  free  from  all  claims  upon  time 
and  resources  which  would  check  its 
movement,  dwarf  its  growth,  or  impede 
its  swift  and  orderly  progress.  Most 
of  the  rebellion  against  our  circumstances 
arises  from  the  feeling  we  have  that  they 
restrict,  limit,  and  narrow  us  ;  we  should 
like  to  be  set  free,  and  we  fancy  that  if 
no  responsibilities  or  duties  were  imposed 
upon  us  other  than  those  we  choose  for 
ourselves,  we  should  move  swiftly  and 
irresistibly  forward,  accomplishing  all  our 
purposes  and  turning  all  our  dreams 
into  facts.  But  the  divine  way  of  ob 
taining  freedom  is  very  different  from 
the  human  way.  There  is  no  truth 
which  men  and  women  accept  so  slowly 
ana  with  so  much  pain  of  heart  and 
mind  as  the  truth  that  freedom  comes 
296 


The  Better  Way 

through  patience,  and  that  our  life  gets 
its  richness  and  strength,  not  by  working 
itself  out  according  to  our  plans,  but  by 
submitting  itself  to  the  direction  of 
another.  Every  one  of  us  has  some 
little  structure  which  he  would  like  to 
complete  for  himself,  laying  the  founda 
tions,  building  the  walls,  spreading  the 
roof,  and  adorning  it  without  and  within 
according  to  his  own  design.  But  God 
sets  us  at  work  upon  an  edifice  so  vast 
that  our  work  upon  it  is  only  a  small 
detail,  and  we  are  such  inferior  artists 
that  we  would  prefer  to  be  the  architects 
of  the  small  design  rather  than  the 
builders  of  the  great  temple.  There  is 
not  one  of  us  upon  whom  some  kind  of 
restriction  is  not  laid  ;  not  one  of  us 
whose  free,  spontaneous  movement  of 
life  is  not  checked  by  the  weakness  of 
some  other  whose  work  we  have  to  add 
to  our  own.  While  we  are  doing  the 
work  of  the  day  with  all  our  might  and 
with  entire  success,  some  one  else  near 
to  us  falls  by  inefficiency  or  by  positive 
297 


Works  and  Days 

evil  of  nature,  and  we  are  obliged  to 
stop  and  add  his  load  to  our  own. 
Instead  of  doing  the  thing  we  would 
like,  which  would  bring  completeness  to 
our  life  in  our  eyes,  we  must  pick  up  a 
wearisome  burden  that  has  no  inspira 
tion  in  it,  and  carry  it  with  a  constant 
fear  of  loss.  Many  a  woman's  life  would 
be  far  richer  in  her  external  activities 
and  opportunities  if  she  were  not  taking 
upon  her  own  shoulders  the  deficiencies 
and  weaknesses  of  others ;  many  a  man 
would  have  larger  education,  more  con 
genial  social  surroundings,  a  sweeter  life, 
if  it  were  not  for  the  responsibilities  he  as 
sumes  for  those  who  are  unable  or  un 
willing  to  meet  their  own  responsibilities. 
There  are  times  when  the  best  nature 
revolts  against  this  apparent  waste  ;  and 
yet  it  is  precisely  through  this  discipline 
that  men  and  women  are  molded  into 
nobler  spiritual  stature  ;  it  is  by  patient 
submission  to  restriction,  by  cheerful 
bearing  of  the  burdens  of  others,  by  un 
complaining  acceptance  of  conditions 
298 


The  Better  Way 

imposed  upon  us  by  the  weaknesses  and 
sin  of  those  that  we  love,  that  the  truest 
liberty  and  the  most  enduring  strength 
are  won.  Christ's  life  was  the  very 
opposite  of  that  which,  from  any  human 
conception,  a  divine  nature  would  seek 
for  itself;  and  yet  it  is  plain  that  its 
highest  divinity  lay  in  its  cheerful  sur 
render  to  the  hardness  and  barrenness 
of  human  conditions.  \/He  came  not  to 
be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and 
He  saved  His  life  by  losing  it. 


299 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000251834    8 


